LEISURE  HOUR  SERIES 


PRETTY  MISS  BELIEF 


BY 


THEO.GIFT 


Henry  Holt&Co.  Publisher 


New  York 


T^ 


THE  LIBRARY 
OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 


California  State  Library 


3gister  of 

members 

fi  close  of  I 

Bok  taken 

[n,  for  the 

Ind  before 

kember  or 

km,  allow- 

or  officer 

has  retunu^a  all  books  taken  out  ol  tne  i^iurar,  uj  ....A,  and    has 

settled  all  accounts  for  injuring  such  books  or  otherwise. 

Sec  15.  Books  may  be  taken  from  the  Library  by  the  members 
of  the  Legislature  and  its  officers  during  the  session  of  the  same, 
and  at  any  time  by  the  Governor  and  the  officers  of  the  Exm.t.ve 
Department  of  this  State,  who  are  rehired  to  keep  th^r  offices  a 
the  seat  of  government,  the  Justices  of  the  Supreme  CouU,  the 
Atti^rney-Genoral,  and  the  Trustees  of  the  Library. 


iNQO.     Translated  by  Mrs.  Maicoltn. 
Ingraban.     "  " 


DIMITRI  RonDiNK, 

Spring    Floods    and   A    Leak   or 
THE  Steppe. 


Where  reader-t  have  no  retail  ttoret  within  reach,  Messrs.  Hemby  Uolx  St  Co. 
icill  se?id  their  publications,  post-paid,  on  receipt  6f  the  advertised  price. 
25  Bond  St.,  N.  Y.,  November  'iAlh,  1S75. 


JUST    PUBLISHED, 

A  NE^V  VOLUME  OF  MILL'S  DISSERTA- 
TIONS AND  DISCUSSIONS.  (Vol.  V.)  Uaifoim  with  tlu; 
"Autobiography,"  "  Thre.'  Kss;ivs  on  Relip-li)ii,"  etc.  Luigi-, 
12mo,  $2.50. 

TAINE'S  PHILOSOPHY  OF  ART  IN   ITALY. 

Translated  by  John  DUKAND.     IGmo,  $1.25. 

TAINE'S  WORKS.  Unilbrni  ribraiy  Edition,  12  vols., 
in  a  box,  12nio,  per  vol.,  green  cloth,  $2.50;  half  calf,  $.")  ;  tree 
calf,  $0  : 

EN<;LISH  literature.  ;J  vols,  on  intelligence.  2  vols. 
LECTURES  ON  ART.  Ftrst  Seri&s,  (containing  The  Piiiloso- 
IMIY  OK  Aut;  Tiik  Idk.vl  in  Akt.)  lectures  ON  ART. 
iSpcoml  Seriex.  (contrfiniug  TuK  Philosophy  of  Aut  in  It.m-v; 
Thk  PHrr.osofHV  oi'  Aut  tn  thk  Nkthkul.\nds  ;  Tuk  Phii- 
osoi'HY  OF  Aut  in  Gukicck.)  NOTES  ON  PARIS.  NOTES 
ON  ENGLAND.  A  TOUR  THROUGH  THE  PYRENEES. 
ITALY,  ROME,  AND  ^- ^  "T.l'.s  I !  ALY,  FLORENCE,  AND 
VENICE. 

GORLACH'S    LIFE  OF  PRINCE    BISMARCK. 

ICnio,  cloth,  $1.25. 

THE  FAMILY  RECORD  ALBUM.  Ju  Blanks  Clas- 
sified on  a  New  System.  Large  (piarto  H28  page.s.  Cloth,  blank  deco- 
ra tion.s.  gold  letters.  $5.  Half  morocco,  cloth  sides,  black  decora- 
tions, gold  letters,  $8.  Full  morocco,  with  clasps,  lettering  and 
lines  enclosing  decoration  in  gold,  $15.  Levant  or  Russia,  with 
metal  rims  and  lock,  decorations  and  lettering  full  gold.  $2"i. 

AUSTIN'S  LECTURES  on  JURISPRUDENCE; 

or,  The  Philosojihy  of  Positive  Law.     By  tlie  late  Jolfn  Austni,  of 
the  Inner  Temple,  Uarrister-at-Law.     Abridged  from  the  larger 
work  for  the  use  of  students.      \'<y  R<tiiKUT  Ca.mi'UKI  '     -i'  f  '!■ 
coin's  Inn,  Barristcr-at-Law.     1  vol.,  8vo,  $J.0(). 

AUERBACH'S    ON  THE    HEIGHTS.     Tianslaf.-.l 

by  S.  A.  Si'KUN.      12in<),  LiVirary  edition.   $2.00;   the  same,  two        j 
vol.s.,  lOmo.  Leisure  Hour  Series,  $1.25  per  volume. 

GAUTIER'S  CONSTANTINOPLE.  Tninslnt.-.l 
from  the  French.  By  Roijkut  Howe  Goii.ij,  .\  M.  Ainrriran 
Edttion,  »prciitUy  revised.  Uniform  with  Gautier's  Winter  in 
Russia.     $2.00. 

HENRY  HOLT  &  CO.,  Publishers.  New  York. 


HLMxi»«ijiiiiiii'»«»iiitiiMi.iiiiimniiitiiiiiiiiiniiU'l»i>"liM»"i"i'"XI'"inM**^W'^'^V 


LEISURE     HOUR     SERIES 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW 


A    TALE   OF  HOME  LIFE 


BY 


THEO.     GIFT 


NEW  YORK. 
HENRY    HOI/r    AND    COMPANY 

1S75 


John  F.  Trow  &  Son,  Pkinters, 
B05-213  East  i2TH  St.,  New  York. 


PR 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE    SCHOOLROOM    AT   NO.    1 5. 

AN  uncommonly  wet  evening!  Not  so  much  rain  as 
fog  and  drizzle — London  fog  and  London  drizzle. 
In  the  atmosphere,  a  dim  whitish  blur,  broken  here  and 
there  by  smears  of  red,  where  the  gas-lamps  were  begin- 
ning to  twinkle  through  the  murky  air.  In  the  square, 
drops  of  moisture  distilling  with  a  dreary  trickle  from 
every  twig  and  bud  and  bough.  At  the  corner,  a  police- 
man dimly  revealed  by  the  shine  of  his  oilskin  cape  un- 
der the  gas-lamp.  Hidden  somewhere  in  the  fog  in  front 
of  a  neighboring  house,  an  organ  grinding  away  dismally 
at  that  sweetest  and  most  mangled  of  all  sweet  and  man- 
gled waltzes — "  II  Bacio."  Fifrther  still,  and  deeper  in 
the  fog  and  mud,  a  street-singer  quavering  shrilly  among 
the  top  notes  of  one  of  the  Christy  Minstrel  melodies. 
"  Fair,  fair,  with  golden  hair,"  came  faintly  over  the  sway- 
ing trees  and  thickening  darkness  —  "Fair,  fair,  with 
golden  hair,  sang  a  lone  mother  while  weeping." 

The  "  lone  mother's"  voice  had  a  gincracked  quaver, 
an  asthmatic  wheeze,  which  irritated  the  footman  at  No. 
4.     He  even  meditated  a  sally  for  the  purpose  of  giving 


2  •  PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 

chase  to  the  nuisance,  but  his  hair  was  just  freshly  pow- 
dered for  dinner,  and  London  logs  are  surcharged  with 
sooty  particles  which  sticky  and  so  he  restrained  his  war- 
like desires,  and  submitted  to  the  annoyance. 

It  was  not  audible  enough  to  be  disagreeable  at  No. 
15,  on  the  other  side  of  the  square,  the  house  wh'ose 
lighted  drawing-room  windows  threw  a  flickering,  weirdly 
yellow  glare  over  the  dank  grass  plots  and  blackened 
shrubs  across  the  pavement.  It  was  only  firelight  with- 
in, or  else  the  blinds  had  been  down ;  but  it  sparkled  and 
danced  right  merrily  on  pale  green  walls  and  bright  mir- 
rors, on  pictures,  and  photographs,  and  old  china;  on 
gipsy  tables,  rich  in  home-made  point-lace,  and  big  furry 
rugs,  cunningly  obscuring  the  worn  patches  on  the  Turk- 
ey carpet;  on  curtains  of  ruby  damask,  which  looked 
quite  new  and  brilliant  in  the  ruddy  light,  and  curtains 
of  white  lace  hiding  their  darned  parts  in  graceful  folds ; 
last,  not  least,  on  the  back  view  of  a  young  lady  gazing 
through  the  blurred  and  misty  panes,  as  if  in  a  vain  ef- 
fort to  make  out  the  "  lone  mother  "  afore-mentioned. 

'^  Hateful wtSiXhex !  "  said  Kate.  "  Vile,  hateful  weather ! 
Oh  !  how  damp  and  cold  they  will  be  !  " 

She  came  out  into  the  firelight  as  she  spoke,  a  girl  of 
nineteen  or  thereabouts,  with  a  quantity  of  wavy,  bronze- 
colored  hair  knotted  up  on  the  top  of  her  head ;  with 
round,  well-opened  brown  eyes,  and  nose  fine  at  the 
bridge,  and  square  at  the  tip;  with  red,  sharply  curved 
lips,  always  apart,  and  a  determined  little  chin  cleft  in 
two,  like  a  white-heart  cherry ;  with  cheeks  flushed  with 
health,  and  dented  by  two  infantine  dimples;  and  arms 
and  throat  white  as  milk,  and  round  and  soft  as  a  year- 
ling babe's  :  a  girl  whose  first  appearance  gave  you  an 
overpowering  sense  of  life — life  pure  and  healthy,  and 
vigorous  as  a  young  forest  tree;  whose  voice  had  a  sort 
of  jubilant  defiance  in  its  fresh  young  tones,  and  whose 
laugh  rang  out  with  the  clear,  joyous  vibration  of  a  peal 
of  wedding  bells:  a  girl  who  might  have  stood  for  Can- 
ova's  Hebe,  and  whose  appetite  was  as  healthy  as  her 
mind. 

The  firelight  seemed   to  like   her,  it   hung  about  the 


PRETTY  MLSS  BELLEIV.  2 

ripening  curves  of  her  young,  round  figure  so  lo\ingly, 
and  kissed  with  a  warm,  tender  glow  the  shapely,  cream- 
white  hands  stretched  out  to  meet  it — the  saucy,  honest 
face  bent  down  above  it. 

"  Five  o'clock,"  said  Kate,  looking  from  the  vaguely 
flickering  reflections  of  herself  in  the  mirror  over  the  fire- 
place, to  the  old-fashioned  Dresden  clock  on  the  chim- 
ney-piece ;  "five  o'clock — and  they  won't  be  here  for 
another  hour.     I  think  I'll  get  some  tea." 

She  was  rather  fond  of  talking  to  herself  when  there 
was  no  one  else  to  talk  to,  preferring  singing,  or  even  so- 
liloquy, to  the  alternative  of  silence.  As  her  light  feet 
went  tripping  down  the  broad,  shallow  stairs,  and  across 
the  hall,  with  its  chessboard-like  surface  of  black  and 
white  marble,  she  was  humming  the  refrain  of  "John 
Brown's  Body"  in  so  joyous  a  key,  that  three  younger 
sets  of  lungs  in  the  schoolroom  took  it  up,  and  greeted 
her  with  a  chorus  as  she  entered,  laughing. 

"  My  dears,  pray  ! "  cried  Miss  Smith,  from  her  seat  be- 
hind the  tea-tray.  "  Eva,  you  too !  Good  evening, 
Miss  Bellcw.     Shall  I  give  you  some  tea?" 

"Goodness  gracious,  Kittie,  how  swell  you  are!  and 
what  have  you  dressed  so  early  for?"  broke  in  Madge 
(No.  3,  and  cetat  twelve),  springing  up  from  her  chair, 
and  jerking  half  the  contents  of  her  tea-cup  over  the 
cloth,  in  her  hurry  to  inspect  Kate's  attire.  Poor  Miss 
Smith  uttered  a  second  remonstrance,  and  Eve  (No.  2, 
and  ictat  fifteen)  ably  seconded  her.  [N.  B. — Some  of 
the  tea  had  gone  over  her  dress.] 

"  I  never  knew  any  one  so  rough  and  vulgar  as 
Madge,"  she  observed,  in  an  icy  little  tone  of  disgust, 
which  quite  extinguished  the  governess's  patient 
"  Madge  !  Madge ! " 

Madge  paid  little  attention  to  either.  Bigger  than  Eve 
already,  and  at  that  clumsy  age  when  the  unshaped 
female  form  goes  in  where  it  ought  to  come  out,  and 
conies  out  where  it  ought  to  go  in,  she  had  planted  a 
hand  on  either  side  of  Kate's  waist,  and  twisted  her 
round  for  a  better  contemplation  of  the  crisp  white  mus- 
lin and  carnation-colored  bows,  which  harmonized  so 
well  with  the  wearer's  lips  and  cheeks. 


4  PKETTY  MJSS  BELLE W. 

"Isn't  she  a  swell,  just?"  cried  Madge,  who  delighted 
to  use  slang  for  the  mere  pleasure  of  seeing  Eve's  lips 
tighten  shudderingly ;  but  she  got  no  second  rebuke, 
Eve  merely  asking  as  she  handed  her  sister  a  cup  of 
tea : 

"  Why  are  you  dressed  so  early,  Kate  ?  " 

"Because  I  got  tiied  of  doing  nothing,"  said  Kate, 
laughing,  and  extricating  herself  from  Madge's  grasp  to 
sit  down  in  the  well  worn  armchair  by  the  fire,  and  put 
her  feet  on  the  fender.  "I  never  can  do  anything  when 
I  am  expecting  Dick  home;  and  I  thought  dressing 
would  pass  the  time  away  as  well  as  anything  else." 

"And  is  all  that  'goffring'  and  finery  for  Dick?" 
asked  Eve,  with  a  natural  sourness  emanating  from  the 
maternal  warning  earlier  in  the  day  that  she  would  dine 
with  the  three  juveniles  that  evening,  "company"  being 
expected. 

"  Dick,  indeed ! "  broke  in  Master  George,  a  stout, 
bullet-headed  urchin  of  ten,  looking  up  from  the  plate  of 
bread  and  marmalade  he  was  discussing.  "Dick!  She 
don't  dress  for  him.  Don't  you  know  there  are  lawyers 
and  people  coming?" 

"Ah!  I  had  forgotten  the  new  lawyer,"  said  Eve, 
drily.  "So  the  red  bows  are  for  him,  Kate?  Well, 
when  I  am  out,  I  will  wait  to  see  what  manner  offish  are 
in  the  stream  before  I  dress  my  flies  for  them." 

"  Is  you  going  to  catch  fiss,  Katie  ?  "  said  little  Dottie, 
turning  up  her  innocent  face,  with  wide,  brown  eyes  won- 
derfully like  Kate's,  from  her  corner  under  Miss  Smith's 
wing.  "Will  oo  take  me?  I's  be  welly  good,  and  carry 
ze  bastet  so  nicely." 

"Kate  likes  to  capture  all  the  fish,"  said  Madge,  burst- 
ing out  laughing.  "She  doesn't  want  to  keep  them — do 
you,  Kittie  ?  You'll  throw  them  all  back  into  tlie  water 
for  Eve  afterwards." 

"Of  course  I  do,"  said  Kate,  turning  her  bright  face 
round,  "and  of  course  my  bows  are  for  the  new  lawyer. 
I  am  trembling  now  lest  Dick  should  hug  all  the  starch 
out  of  my  frills  before  his  friend  sees  them.  I  want  him 
to  like  me.  And  why  not  ?  Every  one  does  generally; 
why  shouldn't  he  ?" 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW.  c 

*'How  do  you  know  they  do  ?"  asked  Eve,  satirically. 

"  By  their  ways  and  manners,  of  course.  Don't  you 
know  when  people  like  you  ?" 

'■Nobody  ever  does,"  observed  George,  carefully  re- 
moving some  superfluous  marmalade  from  his  cheek  with 
the  end  of  his  tongue;  "she's  too  disagreeable." 

"Master  George,"  said  the  governess,  "that  is  not  the 
way  to  talk  of  your  sister." 

"1  am  used  to  it,"  said  Eve,  with  dignity;  "and  T 
must  say  I  should  try  to  make  people  like  me  by  wihat  I 
was,  rather  than  by  what  I  had  on." 
■  "  People  like  Kate  without  her  trying,"  put  in  Madge, 
warmly.  "1  heard  Mrs.  Fisher  telling  mamma  that  she 
was  the  very  nicestest  girl  at  the  last  ball;  and  you  know 
Mr,  Luscott  fell  in  love  with  her  the — " 

"Madge,  my  dear!"  cried  Miss  Smith,  shocked. 
"^Vhat  do  you  know  of  falling  in — ahem!  No  one  is 
talking  of  such  a  thing." 

"Certainly  not,"  said  Eve.  "I  don't  think  there  is 
much  love  in  what  Kate  calls  her  flirtations." 

"Eve!"  said  Miss' Smith,  reprovingly. 

"I  only  call'ii  flirting,"  cried  Kate,  reddening  warmly, 
"because  if  I  didn't,  nasty  people  would.  They  always 
do  say  a  girl  is  flirting  if  she  is  cheerful,  and  makes  no 
humbug  about  liking  to  talk  to  pleasant  people,  and  lik- 
ing pleasant  people  to  talk  to  her,  and  care  for  her,  and — " 

"  Well,  you  need  not  get  so  red  and  hot  over  it,"  ob- 
served Eve.  "You  may  call  it  flirting,  or  not  flirting. 
Anyhow,  I  don't  agree  with  it;  and  I  don't  think  you've 
any  right  to  caU  people  hunlbugs  who — " 

"My  dear  Eve,"  said  Miss  Smith,  "do  you  know  what 
flirting  means?  Miss  Eellew  was  only  joking;  no  well- 
bred  young  lady  would  think  of  such  a  thing." 

"  Is  me  a  well-bwed  lady  ?  "  said  little  Dottie,  anxiously. 
"My  hands  always  unner  de  table." 

"You're  a  darling  duck,"  said  Kate,  pouncing  on  and 
kissing  her,  "and  the  sweetest  little  lady  out,  that  you 
are.  I  say,  youngsters,  what's  the  matter  with  Eve,  that 
she's  so  cross  this  evening?  Has  she  been  greedy,  and 
eaten  up  that  pot  of  Devonshire  cream  that  turned  sour 
yesterday  ?  " 


6  PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 

Madge  was  busy  maintaining  a  silent  scuffle  with 
George  for  the  possession  of  a  particularly  crumby  piece 
of  bread.  She  turned  round  now  with  a  mischievous 
laugh ;  and  George  instantly  seized  the  bone  of  conten- 
tion, and  stuffed  one-third  of  it  into  his  mouth,  to  make 
"assurance  doubly  sure." 

"  Cream  ?  No,  Kittie ;  she's  been  eating  a  dish  of 
herbs  in  the  schoolroom,  and  hatred  withal,  instead  of 
going;  into  the  stalled  ox  and  what-you-may-call-ems  in 
the  dining-room  !     That's  what's  the  matter  with  her." 

"As  if  I  cared  about  such  a  trifle!"  Eve  answered, 
loftily,  with  a  toss  of  her  smooth  litde  flaxen  head.  "  It 
only  shows  Dick's  love  of  his  family,  that  he  would  rather 
see  any  one  else  on  the  first  day  of  his  coming  home 
from  college." 

"Dick  does  love  his  family,"  cried  Kate,  flushing  up 
again.  "  Dick  is  a  darling.  Of  course  he  likes  us  to  ask 
one  or  two  people  to  meet  Mr.  Clive.  When  a  man 
brings  his  greatest  friend  home,  it's  only  natural  he  should 
wish  to  do  him  a  little  honor ;  and  you  know  the  table 
only  holds  six  cosily.  It  is  very  unkind  of  you  to  say 
anything  against  Dick,  Eva." 

"  Oh,  never  mind  Eva,  Kittie,"  broke  in  Madge,  push- 
ing away  her  cup  and  plate.  "Tell  us  what  the  '  stalled 
ox'  is  to-day.  We  all  smelt  duck  quite  plainly;  but  it 
was  mixed  up  with  something  else — I  said  pastry,  but 
George  thought  it  was  bacon,  and  that  means  fowls  of 
course.     We've  got  a  bet  on  it.     Which  has  won  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,  I'm  sure,"  said  Kate,  with  that  happy 
ignorance  of  all  cuHnary  and  housekeeping  matters  so 
natural  in  our  young  English  matrons  to  be.  "I  suppose 
I  shall  see  when  I  sit  down  to  it.  Smell  a  little  harder 
as  it  comes  upstairs,  George,  and  perhaps  you'll  find  out." 

"Sail  I  help  you  smell,  Georgie?"  asked  Dottie,  in- 
flating her  little  nostrils  in  readiness.  "  I  tan  smell  twite 
hard— tan't  I,  Miss  Smifl"?" 

"Litde  girls  never  smell,"  said  Miss  Smith,  primly;  "it 
is  not  good  man —  Madge,  my  dear ! " — as  Madge  sent 
her  chair  over  backwards  in  her  hurry  to  get  to  Kate. 

"I  didn't  do  it  on  purpose.  Miss  Smith.     Do  wait  one 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW.  y 

moment,  Kittie.     I  want  to  know  if  Mr.  Clive  is  a  rela- 
tion or  not.     Eve  says  he  is." 

"  Oh  dear,  no — at  least,  only  by  courtesy.  He's — let 
me  see — a  step-son  of  one  of  papa's  second  or  third 
cousins.  That  is  no  relation  to  us,  you  know;  but  I 
believe  Dick  and  he  call  cousins,  and  so  I  suppose  we 
shall  do  the  same.  Dick  wants  him  to  feel  quite  at  home 
here." 

"A  man  and  a  brother,"  said  George,  pushing  away 
the  marmalade  dish  with  a  deep  sigh — whether  the  result 
of  repletion,  or  the  melancholy  courtesy  of  leaving  the 
last  and  very  least  portion  of  that  delicacy  unappropri- 
ated, is  not  known.  "  I  hope  he'll  be  a  jolly  sort  of  fellow, 
who'll  take  us  out,  and  stand  Madame  Tussaud,  and  that 
sort  of  thing.     Dick  never  does." 

"Dick  hasn't  time,"  said  Kate,  wincing  visibly  at  any 
word  against  her  elder  brother.  '•  Miss  Smith  can  tell 
you  grown-up  men  have  too  many  friends  and  engage- 
ments to  be  always  taking  their  family  about.  Now,  then, 
what  next  ?  " — as  George  stayed  her  exit  a  second  time 
by  jumping  up  and  putting  his  back  against  the  door. 

"Stoop,  Kittie;"  (in  an  ingratiating  whisper)  "promise 
to  bring  me  something  from  the  dessert ;  not  just  a 
biscuit,  like  last  time,  but  something  nice." 

"And  bwing  me  somesing  nice  too,  Kittie,"  put  in 
Dottie,  clinging  with  her  fat  hands  to  Kate's  sash.  The 
elder  girl  stooped  down,  and  kissed  her,  laughingly. 

"You  little  wretches — a  likely  story!  Why,  I  brought 
you  those  biscuits  at  the  risk  of  disgracing  myself  for 
ever  and  ever;  and  then  1  had  on  a  silk  tiress  with  a 
pocket  '  convanient.'  Fancy  Mr.  Clive  seeing  a  handful 
of  figs  and  raisins  trans|)arently  visible  through  this ! " — 
holding  out  her  cloudy  skirts  with  a  merry  laugh,  "  Move 
out  of  the  way,  Georgie — Gorgy!" 

"You  could  smuggle  it  in  your  handkerchief,  Kate. 
Just  a  peach  ?  " 

"A  peach  !  when  they  cost  a  mint — at  this  season,  too  ! 
What  next  ?  Good  night,  Dottie  dumpling.  Now, 
George,  let  me  go." 

"Oh,  very  well.     I'm  off  parole,  then,  that's  all." 


8  PRE  TTY  MISS  BELLE  IV. 

"Oh,  George!"  (from  Madge)  "you  mean,  greedy 
thing ! " 

"  Greedy  yourself,  Madge.  You  know  you  always  got 
the  biggest  share." 

[N.  B. — Some  little  while  back,  the  exit  of  the  gentle- 
men from  the  dining-room  had  been,  I  grieve  to  say,  the 
signal  for  a  raid  on  the  dessert,  of  which  Tom,  the  page- 
boy, had  proved  an  inefficient  defender.  George  had,  in 
consequence,  been  put  on  honor  by  his  mother  not  to 
continue  these  enterprises,  the  fruits  of  which  were  shared 
with  Madge,  who  also  came  in  for  her  share  of  blame.] 

"Not  when  I'm  on  parole,  George." 

"Yes;  but  mamma  said  when  we  were,  we  should  have 
something  nice  next  day." 

"Well,  wait  till  dinner  to-morrow,  and  you'll  have 
something." 

"  I  don't  like  waiting.     I — " 

"Master  George,  is  this  proper,  gentlemanly  behavior? 
— Really,  Madge,  I  wish — " 

"I'm  not  doing  anything,  Miss  Smith.  It's  George 
won't  let  Katie  g^  Katie,  make  mamma  come  up  from 
dinner  quick.  Eve  and  I  want  to  see  what  Mr.  Clive  is 
like." 

"I  can't,  Madge.  Mrs.  Marryatt  always  sits  so  long 
over  her  wine." 

"Put  a  pin  in  her  chair." 

"  Put  some  vinegar  in  her  wine." 

"Oh,  dear!  are  the  Marryatts  coming?  That  horrid 
man  !  I  do  hate  him  so." 

"Because  he  will  pat  your  cheeks.     So!" 

"  Well,  George,  would  you  like  to  be  patted  like  a  prize 
pig?" 

"  Perhaps  he  thinks  you're  like  one." 

"I'm  not  nearly  as  stout  as  you." 

"Yes,  you  are;  look  at  your  legs." 

"Don't  be  rude,  sir.  You  burst  a  button  off  your 
waistcoat  at  dinner  on  Friday." 

"It  Avasn't  at  dinner;  it  was  turning  a  wheel." 

"  Oh,  what  a  cram  ! " 

"  My  dear  Madge,  I — " 


'    PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV.  g 

"Oh!  hush,  please — I  beg  your  ])ardon  "  (from  Kate) 
— what  in  the  name  of  goodness  is  that  ?  " 

That  was  a  man's  voice  from  the  drawing-room  floor — 
a  familiar  voice,  too,  calling  out : 

"Halloa!     Katie!     Somebody!     Is  no  one  at  home?" 

"It's  Dick!"  cried  Kate,  in  an  agony — "Oh!!"  and 
hurled  herself  at  the  door,  scattering  George,  and  rushing 
upstairs  like  a  white  whirlwind. 

In  the  noisy  babel  of  the  schoolroom,  no  one  had 
heard  either  the  expected  knock  at  the  door  or  the  voices 
in  the  hall;  and  Kate,  who  had  meant  to  be  waiting 
ready  to  seize  on  her  brother  and  welcome  his  friend  in 
the  very  moment  of  their  arrival,  was  utterly  taken  aback 
by  the  shock  of  hearing  them  above. 

Forgetting  altogether  the  graceful  little  greeting  she 
had  prepared  for  Dick's  hero  in  the  overwhelming  delight 
of  Dick's  presence,  she  tore  upstairs,  stumbling  over  her 
white  flounces  in  her  haste,  and  flung  her  armsVound  the 
first  of  two  dark  figures  dimly  visible  against  the  firelight 
background  of  the  drawing-room  doorway. 


CHAPTER  II. 

"l  THINK  HIM  A  PIG." 

FORTUNATELY  it  7vas  Dick.  I  don't  think  people 
often  make  mistakes  of  that  sort  off  the  stage.  Be- 
sides, Dick's  head  was  flaxen,  and  stood  two  inches 
lower  than  his  friend's.  He  reddened  slightly  in  the  dark- 
ness when  half  choked  by  two  warm  white  arms,  while 
an  impetuous  voice  stammered  out,  "Oh,  Dick,  dear!  to 
think  of  our  not  hearing  you  come !  And  I  was  watch- 
ing for  you.  Oh,  I'm  so  glad  you're  here;  and — oh, 
dear !  /wtii  your  moustache  has  grown  !  " 

She  had  quite  forgotten  the  stranger,  you  see;  and  I 
think — I'm  not  sure — that  Dick  remembered  him  more 
than  he  did  his  pleasure  at  being  so  warmly  welcomed. 
Anyway,  he  resisted  the  cowardly  feeling,  and  kissed  his 
sister  with  a  sort  of  defiance  as  he  said  : 

"Why,  Katie,  you'll  eat  me  up.  Here's  my  friend 
Clive.     Haven 'f  you  a  word  for  him  as  well  ?  " 

Of  course  Kate  had  a  word ;  only  she  had  but  just  re- 
membered his  existence.  Letting  go  of  Dick  with  a  sort 
of  feeling  that  she  had  "gushed,"  and  yet  with  a  happy 
confidence  that  even  gushing,  in  this  undemonstrative 
age,  was  pardonable  when  she  was  the  gusher,  and  Dick 
the  subject,  she  turned  with  a  ready  mingling  of  smile  and 
color  to  the  visitor;  and  saw,  by  the  glimmer  of  firelight 
— what  she  never  h^d  seen  before  in  any  face  of  man 
when  turned  in  her  direction — a  sneer! 

It  was  very  slight,  so  slight  and  faint  indeed  as  to  be 
hardly  distinguishable  even  in  a  brighter  light,  save  by  a 

lO 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE  IV.  1 1 

very  quick-witted  person.  Unfortunately  Miss  Bellew 
was  very  quick-witted.  She  distinguislied  it  at  once,  and 
in  one  and  the  same  moment  hated  Mr.  Bernard  Chve 
with  a  fierce  and  deadly  hatred,  which  manifested  itself  in 
an  immediate  straightening  of  all  the  Hebe  curves  in  her 
lithe  young  figure,  and  the  frigid  bend  of  her  head,  as 
with  face  "  darkly,  deeply,  beautifully  red,"  she  pronounced 
the  formal  greeting : 

"We  are  very  happy  to  see  you,  Mr.  Clive.  I  beg 
your  pardon  for  not  noticing  you  at  first." 

Dick  was  disappointed.  He  knew  Kate  to  the  core, 
and  was  well  acquainted  with  her  two  forms  of  manner, 
the  outspokenly  cordial  and  outspokenly  sharp.  Natu- 
rally, he  thought  the  former  had  been  bespoken  for  his 
friend,  and  felt  aggrieved  at  this  chill  politeness. 

"  Let  us  come  into  the  drawing-room.  Isn't  my 
mother  at  home?  and  are  there  no  lights  in  the  house?" 
he  said,  sharply,  drowning  something  Clive  was  saying 
about  needing  "an  apology  for  intruding  on  domestic  re- 
unions"— something  which  sounded  like  an  appendix  to 
the  sneer,  Kate  thought.  She  was  quite  unconscious  how 
bewitching  the  angry  fiush  made  her,  as  reaching  up  one 
hand  to  light  the  centre  lamp,  she  let  the  pure  mellow 
light  stream  down  on  dimpling  cheek  and  gold  bronzed 
hair ;  and  all  the  soft  white  curves  of  arm  and  dress  re- 
lieved against  a  dark  green  background  of  dainty,  fragile 
drawing-room  ferns.  Dick,  who  had  not  seen  her  for 
some  time,  and  who  was  rather  impressionable  on  the 
score  of  feminine  charms,  felt  his  vexation  fade  away  in 
honest  pride  at  the  ])Ossession  of  such  a  pretty  sister,  and 
at  being  able  to  exhibit  her  to  his  critical  third  cousin  by 
compliment. 

Dick  was  not  a  very  wise  young  man,  and  had  not 
much  to  be  proud  of  on  his  own  account.  Painfully 
slight,  with  flaxen  hair  like  Eve's,  and  light  blue  eyes, 
which  looked  dark  by  reason  of  an  unhealthy  purplish 
shade  round  them,  he  made  the  most  striking  contrast  to 
his  favorite  sister  that  could  well  be  found.  He  was  only 
twenty-one,  and  yet  there  were  little  crows'-feet  at  the  cor- 
ners of  his  eyes,  and  little  lines  on  his  forehead,  and  more 


1 2  PRE  TT  y  MISS  BELLE  W. 

lines  about  his  mouth :  small  unholy  signatures  that  gave 
him  an  old,  worn  look,  which  went  oddly  with  his  fair 
hair  and  soft  moustache.  He  was  old,  poor  Dick!  al- 
most worn  out  and  used  up  before  he  had  gained  his  ma- 
jority. He  had  run  through  life  so  quickly  as,  like 
that  babe  in  the  ballads,  to  be  "elderly,  elderly  too,"  at 
the  age  when  most  young  men  are  almost  boys  j  and  you 
could  see  it  in  the  slight  stoop  he  had  when  "  off  guard," 
and  in  the  nervous  movements  of  his  slight  thin  hands,  as 
well  as  in  those  tell-tale  lines — lines  which  had  graven 
answering  ones,  deep  and  broad,  across  his  mother's  brow. 

I  am  afraid  he  was  no  great  comfort  to  that  lady,  al- 
though he  was  her  first-born,  and  had  been  her  idol. 
She  had  adored  him,  and  flattered  him,  and  spoiled  him  in 
every  way  since  his  boyhood ;  and  yet  he  had  not  turned 
out  either  self-denying,  well-conducted,  or  energetic.  I 
doubt  if  he  was  even  grateful ;  spoiled  children  seldom  are. 
On  the  contrary,  he  had  been  expelled  from  school,  and 
almost  driven  into  college;  had  learned  nothing,  and 
spent  heaps  of  money ;  and  was  now  home  in  disgrace, 
rusticated  for  a  year  in  consequence  of  some  scrape  worse 
than  ordinary — some  scrape  so  bad  that  only  the  vaguest 
rumors  of  it  had  reached  Lady  Margaret  and  her  confi- 
dante. And  yet  when  the  culprit  signified  that  he  was 
bringing  with  him  a  distant  connection  who  Jiad  distin- 
guished himself  at  college,  and  at  thnty  years  of  age  had 
made  a  name  at  the  bar,  and  returned  to  Alma  Mater  to 
take  a  fellowship — and  had  ordered  that  a  room  should 
be  got  ready  for  Ihis  hero,  and  certain  guests,  legal  and 
otherwise,  invited  to  meet  him — his  mother  and  sister 
never  dreamed  of  disobeying,  but  were,  on  the  contrary, 
rather  gratified  at  knowing  a  means  for  insuring  their 
idol  being  in  a  good  temper  on  his  return.  He  had  come 
home  in  disgrace  once  before,  and  had  been  in  a  bad  tem- 
per. Lady  Margaret  and  Kate  remembered  that  first 
evening  painfully. 

Of  course  they  never  dreamed  of  resenting  his  humors. 
Women,  womanly  women,  that  is,  seldom  do.  When  he 
offended  his  great-uncle.  Lord  Lovegoats,  by  declining 
that  living,  for  the  adorning  of  which  his  noble  relative 


rRETTY  MISS  BELLE W.  13 

had  allowed  a  hundred  a  year  towards  college  expenses, 
and  had  curtly  refused  to  go  into  the  Church  at  all,  or  do 
anything  unconnected  with  a  red  coat.  Lady  Margaret 
had  almost  gone  down  on  her  knees  to  coax  her  uncle 
into  continuing  the  young  reprobate's  allowance,  and 
keeping  the  living  open  for  Tom,  who  was  now  at 
Rugby;  and  Kate  made  vigorous  (but  ineffectual)  love  to 
an  old  general  in  the  neighborhood,  to  induce  him  to  use 
his  interest  for  getting  her  brother  a  commission  in  the 
Blues.  And  ever  after  Mrs.  de  Ponsonby  spoke  of  her 
as  "that  fast  Miss  Bellew,  who  quite  shocked  the  general 
by  her  way  of  going  on." 

Some  people  thought  Eve  would  turn  out  a  nicer  girl, 
"  more  soft  and  feminine;"  but  Kate  was  quite  unaware 
of  these  strictures,  and  had  a  happy  way  of  believing  in 
every  one's  good  disposition  to  herself,  until  startled  by 
some  overt  proof  to  the  contrary,  such  as  Mr.  Clive's 
sneer.     She  did  not  often  come  across  one. 

Lady  Margaret  was  in  the  room  by  this  time,  had 
shaken  hands  with  Clive,  welcoming  him  in  a  few  cordial 
words — ^just  what  Kate  had  meant  to  say — and  had  kissed 
her  son  affectionately,  but  with  a  sort  of  arriere  pense'e  as 
to  the  reason  of  his  being  at  home  at  all  at  that  time. 
She  loved  him  so  dearly,  this  black  sheep  of  hers,  and  yet 
he  was  so  black  !  Why  had  he  not  kept  to  his  books  and 
consented  to  the  Church  ?  He  would  have  been  pro- 
vided for  then ;  and  George  would  have  been  at  school 
instead  of  dawdling  on  with  Miss  Smith.  It  w^as  all  very 
well  for  Kate  to  say,  "Dick  is  not  fitted  for  the  Church, 
mamma" — and  he  certainly  was  not — but,  as  Lady  ALirga- 
ret  said,  '"'How  many  go  into  the  Church  without  being 
fitted  for  it,  and  yet  get  on  very  well!  And  Guttlesbury- 
in-the-Marshes  is  such  a  nice,  quiet  village,  he  couldn't 
have  done  anything  very  outrageous  there." 

I  am  afraid,  Lady  Margaret,  that  the  quietness  of  Gut- 
tlesburv-in-the-Marshes  was  one  reason  against  it  in 
Dick's  eyes.  Lady  ALargaret  thought  the  same,  as  did 
Kate  in  her  heart ;  but  when  you  are  very  hard  up,  and 
have  seven  children,  and  there  is  a  profession  and  income 
offering  itself  to  the  eldest,  it  is  provoking  if  he  won't  take 


1 4  PRE  TTY  MISS  BELLE  VV . 

it.  Lady  Margaret  was  an  earl's  daughter,  but  her  father 
had  been  neither  a  rich  nor  economical  man;  and  it  was 
thought  a  good  thing  when  Lady  Jane,  who  was  not 
handsome,  became  a  Catholic  and  took  the  veil;  and  an 
equally  good  thing  when  her  sister,  at  seventeen,  married 
a  gentleman  who  was  something  in  the  Woods  and 
Forests. 

The  Woods  and  Forests  had  maintained  her  very  well, 
kept  a  handsome  house  within  five  minutes'  walk  of 
Hyde  Park,  and  a  well-appointed  brougham ;  and  never 
obliged  its  consort  to  trouble  her  head  about  money  mat- 
ters, or  prudential  calculations.  Everything  went  very 
smoothly  while  Mr.  Bellew  lived.  The  pity  was  that  he 
didn't  go  on  living,  but  went  and  died  instead:  died  just 
as  Kate  was  beginning  to  think  of  the  delight  of  coming 
out  and  being  presented  in  another  year,  and  Dick  had 
been  put  into  the  hands  of  an  expensive  tutor  to  be 
crammed  for  college. 

Lady  Margaret  called  on  her  uncle,  Lord  Lovegoats, 
in  floods  of  tears,  and  talked  of  the  workhouse.  It  is 
even  reported  that  she  was  heard  to  murmur  something 
relative  to  "a  mangle"  or  "lodgings  for  respectable  sin- 
gle men."  And,  indeed,  an  income  under  two  thousand 
a  year  is  not  much  to  keep  up  a  household  containing 
seven  children,  and  four  or  five  servants — one  son  at  Rug- 
by, another  (whose  chief  correspondence  with  his  family 
consisted  of  appeals  for  money)  at  Oxford,  a  governess 
for  the  rest,  and  a  residence  in  the  aristocratic  precincts 
of  Gresham  Square,  Hyde  Park.  Lord  Lovegoats,  too, 
was  not  as  sympathetic  as  he  might  have  been,  or  as 
Lady  Margaret  thought  he  might  have  been.  He  did, 
indeed,  allow  Dick  a  hundred  a  year  for  the  present; 
and  he  kept  a  horse  for  Kate,  brusquely  observing  that 
as  his  niece's  first  duty  was  to  get  that  young  lady  mar- 
ried, it  was  only  fair  to  assist  her  in  showing  off"  the 
youtliful  Circassian  in  a  style  of  equality  with  others  in 
the  same  rank. 

He  kept  a  horse  for  Kate — had,  indeed,  chosen  it  with 
care,  and  made  it  a  present  to  her — but  he  did  not  add  a 
groom,  or  an  animal  for  that  individual  to  ride  on,  until 


PRE  TT Y  MISS  BELLE  IV.  i  ^ 

Lady  Margaret's  frequent  hints  as  to  the  great  additional 
expense  entailed  on  herself  by  Kate's  new  favorite, 
brought  one  of  the  Lovegoat  grooms  to  the  house,  with 
the  intimation  that  he  had  been  ordered  to  attend  Miss 
Bellew  in  all  her  future  rides. 

Myson  used  to  come  every  day  at  the  same  hour, 
mounted  on  a  very  decent  hack  himself,  and  leading 
Kate's ;  and  unless  it  were  absolutely  raining  cats  and 
dogs  the  young  lady  made  a  point  of  going,  lest  her 
great-uncle  might  think  his  kindness  unappreciated,  and 
revoke  it. 

Attentions  from  relations  are  sometimes  a  little  onerous, 
as  you  know ;  and  as  Myson  soon  let  out  in  the  servants' 
hall  that  he  had  no  other  duty  at  home  but  to  look  after 
Miss  Bellew's  horse  and  horsemanship,  and  had,  indeed, 
been  hired  for  that  sole  and  only  })urpose,  Kate  some- 
times asked  (in  private)  why  on  earth  Uncle  Theo.  didn't 
give  them  the  groom  instead  of  lending  him.  He  would 
have  been  so  useful  at  Gresham  Square,  and  might  have 
obviated  the  necessity  of  keeping  that  boy  in  buttons, 
whose  appearance  at  door  and  table  gave  seemliness  and 
style  to  Lady  ^L^rgaret's  establishment. 

Lord  Lovegoats,  however,  had  his  own  ideas  on  these 
subjects,  and  they  were  not  identical  with  those  of  his 
great-niece.  Still,  he  rather  liked  the  girl,  was  proud  of 
her  appearance,  and  not  unfrequently  sent  her  ten  pounds 
for  a  new  ball  dress,  or  tickets  for  the  opera  during  the 
season. 

Mrs.  General  de  Ponsonby  said  she  did  not  wonder 
that  Kate  Bellew  had  such  bold  manners,  considering  the 
stock  she  sprang  from;  and  Dick  declared  that  it  was 
very  fine  for  his  uncle  to  rail  at  him.  He,  at  any  rate, 
meant  to  settle  and  reform  long  before  he  was  seventy. 
Poor  Dick  I  he  did  not  look  much  like  living  to  seventy 
at  present;  and  Lord  Lovegoats  persisted  in  railing.  He 
had  even  refused  to  see  his  great-nephew  during  the  last 
vacation — not  having  forgiven  the  young  man's  rejection 
of  his  Church  patronage ;  and  Lady  ]\Largaret  was  at 
present  meditating  some  scheme  for  concealing  the  fact 
(or  at  any  rate  the  reason)  of  Dick's  temporary  retire- 
ment from  the  shades  of  Alma  }*Later. 


1 C  1  'RK  TTY  MISS  BELLE  IV. 

I  like  Lady  Margaret ;  but  I  do  not  think  that  nature 
had  intended  her  for  the  head  of  a  large  family.  Some 
women  go  very  well  in  harness,  and  under  a  tight  rein,  and 
Lady  Margaret  was  one  of  them.  Had  the  Woods  and 
Forests  lived,  she  might  have  been  looked  up  to  on  all 
sides  as  a  model  of  an  earl's  daughter,  and  an  English 
matron. 

She  looked  like  the  former  now,  as  she  stood  before  the 
fire  talking  w^ith  Bernard  Clive.  A  handsome  woman 
still,  tall  and  well  made,  with  w'avy  bronze  hair,  like 
Kate's,  only  streaked  with  gray,  and  crowned  with  a  small 
point-lace  cap  always  awry;  with  half  an  inch  of  em- 
broidered petticoat  visible  at  one  side  beneath  the  hem  of 
her  black  velvet  dress ;  and  a  huge  rent  in  the  costly  lace 
shawl  dragged  anyhow  round  her  shoulders,  and  fastened 
by  a  big  diamond  brooch,  whose  broken  pin,  besides  mak- 
ing the  ungainly  tear,  had  scratched  her  throat  in  two 
places.  A  shockingly  untidy  woman,  and  yet  a  lady 
every  inch  of  her:  nothing  bourgeoise,  nothing  inconsist- 
ent with  uiie  de  nous  ai/tres,  as  her  friends  would  confess 
even  while  lamenting  over  her  peculiarities. 

"It's  a  little  way  of  mamma's  to  throw  on  her  clothes 
with  a  pitchfork,  when  I'm  not  by  to  look  after  her," 
Kate  used  to  say,  with  a  despairing  little  shrug  of  her 
shoulders;  but  all  the  same  Kate  admired  her  mother 
more  than  any  other  girls'  mothers;  and  would  have 
flared  up  in  scorn  and  indignation,  had  any  one  dared  to 
suggest  that  she  might  have  been  in  any  w^ay  altered  for 
the  better.  Clive  himself,  surveying  her  with  such  small 
flash  of  his  keen  blue  eyes  as  their  lazy  lids  left  uncovered 
— Clive,  wdio  called  himself  a  man  of  the  people,  and 
talked  in  a  radical  way  of  "class  humbugs"  and  "nature's 
nobility,"  recognized  perfectly  that  the  tall  woman  with 
the  ill-made  clothes,  and  the  nervous  hand  rubbing  imag- 
inary flies  off  the  end  of  her  nose  all  the  while  she  was 
talking  to  him,  could  not,  under  any  circumstances,  have 
stood  behind  a  counter,  dropped  her  "h's,"  or  been  "gen- 
teel." 

"  Lady  Margaret  is  a  wonderfully  handsome  woman," 
he  said  to  Dick  when  they  were  upstairs  "polishing"  for 


I'RETTY  MISS  BELLEiV.  17 

dinner.  "That  photograph  you  showed  me  gives  one  no 
idea  of  her." 

"  Oh  !  photos  are  generally  awfully  sells ;  and  then  my 
lady  never  will  stand  still,  so  it's  no  wonder  she  gets 
blurred,"  said  Dick,  carelessly.  "  I  suppose  she  was  good- 
looking  once — something  like  Kate." 

"Like  your  sister?"  Clive  said  it  inc^uiringly,  and 
rather  as  in  disparagement  of  the  latter.  Perhaps  he  did 
not  admire  Kate.  Dick  fancied  so,  at  least,  and  was 
rather  disgusted.  He  had  not  spoken  much  of  his  sister 
to  this  great  friend  of  his.  Like  the  generality  of  young 
Englishmen,  especially  those  who  are  not  particularly 
select  in  their  feminine  acquaintances,  he  was  extremely 
shy  of  alluding  to  his  family  before  the  men  who  knew 
him  away  from  them.  Dick  was  not  domestic;  he  was 
not  even  particularly  filial ;  but  he  had  one  soft  corner 
in  his  heart  for  home,  and  Kate  filled  it.  In  his  eyes  she 
was  just  the  one  girl  worth  anything,  the  prettiest,  best, 
and  nicest  girl  in  the  world.  He  was  always  worrying 
and  often  very  unkind  to  Kate;  but  he  believed  in  her, 
and  felt  a  perfectly  good  and  honest  pride  in  the  admira- 
tion she  excited.  That  any  one  should  not  admire  her 
seemed  to  him  rather  incredible;  and,  thinking  as  highly 
of  the  new  fellow  of  St.  John's  as  he  did,  he  had  been 
secretly  rather  anxious  for  a  larger  share  than  usual  of  his 
admiration  for  the  pet  sister. 

The  reality  was  disappointing. 

"You  know  your  way  down,  I  think,"  he  said,  turning 
abruptly  to  the  door.  "I  must  go  and-  speak  to  the 
girls,"  and  so  went  out.  Kate  was  watching  for  him  on 
the  stairs,  and  was  equally  amused  and  surprised  when  he 
put  his  hands  round  her  waist,  and  held  her  away  for  a 
long  critical  look,  before  giving  vent  to  the  energetic 
comment : 

"You're  a  million  times  nicer  than  half  the  girls  about, 
let  'em  say  what  they  like." 

"Glad  you  think  so,"  said  Kate,  laughing,  and  reach- 
ing up  to  kiss  him.  "You're  not  nice — not  nice  at  all, 
lor  coming  back  in  this  way.  I  wonder  my  face  hasn't 
got  a  netting  pattern  of  wrinkles  on  it,  with  you !  I  tell 
2 


l8  rKETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 

you  what  it  is,  Dick,  you'll  be  bringing  my  gray  hairs  with 
sorrow  to  the  grave  some  day,  if  you — " 

"Sorrow  to  the  humbug!"  interrupted  Dick,  curtly; 
"drop  that,  Kittie;  I  shall  have  enough  in  that  line  from 
my  mother,  without  your  striking  in.  Tell  me  instead — 
what  do  you  think  of  Clive?" 

"Of — of  your  friend?"  said  Kate,  hanging  her  head 
doubtfully.  "Well — I  haven't  seen  much  of  him  yet 
to—" 

"To  think  much?  I  dare  say  not ;  but  I  suppose  you 
have  thought  something.  You  can  tell  if  you  think  you 
like  him?" 

"L — like  him!"  repeated  Kate,  still  softly  reluctant. 
"  No,  I  don't  think  I — like  him ;  I  —you're  sure  you 
don't  mind,  Dick,  do  you,  darling  ?  but — but — I  think 
him  a  pig:  that's  all:  a  stuck-up  pig!" 

"A-a-tdia!!!" 

It  was  only  a  sneeze;  but  it  came  from  the  landing 
above  them,  on  to  which  Mr.  Bernard  Clive  had  just 
stepped  in  his  way  downstairs. 


CHAPTER  III. 

KATE    PUNISHES    MR.    CLIVE. 

DINNER  was  on  the  tabic  :  a  very  pretty  little  dinner 
— very  prettily  laid  for  eight;  and  in  my  opinion 
eight  is  just  the  right  number  for  a  cosy  dinner-party,  just 
big  enough  for  particular  conversations,  and  not  too  big 
for  general  sociability.  Mr.  Marryatt — a  bald  man  with 
a  long  fat  body,  short  fat  legs,  and  a  slow  fat  voice,  which 
Madge  said  sounded  as  though  he  were  giving  you  an 
unctuous  pat  between  each  word — took  down  Lady 
Margaret;  and  made  blandly  ponderous  allusions  to  "our 
departed  friend"  (meaning  the  Woods  and  Forests)  be- 
tween every  other  sentence.  Dick,  as  head  of  the  house, 
took  care  of  Mrs.  Marryatt,  a  smallish,  pallid  woman, 
with  a  head  suggestive  of  one  of  those  skulls  which  the 
Greeks  used  to  crown  with  flowers,  and  set  on  the  dinner- 
table  as  a  sort  of  mortuary  warning;  and  a  manner  ha- 
bitually depressed  from  a  concatenation  of  mysterious 
ailments,  the  nature  of  which  no  doctor  had  been  able  to 
discover. 

Mr.  Philpots,  the  junior  curate  of  St.  Mark's,  a  young 
man  so  dreadfully  in  love  with  Kate  that  he  grew  pink 
and  damp  all  over  with  excitement  if  she  even  looked  at 
him,  paired  off  with  Miss  Fothergill,  a  gushing  young 
lady  of  thirty  or  thereabouts;  and — Kate  was  left  to 
Clive ! 

Lady  Margaret  had  arranged  all  that  beforehand;  and 
of  course  it  was  the  right  and  proper  thing ;  but,  under 
the  circumstances,  Kate  was  not  happy  in  the  conjunc- 

19 


20  PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 

tion.  Even  her  power  of  conversation  had  deserted  her; 
and  Clive  did  not  help  her.  Indeed  he  made  so  Httle 
use  of  his  tongue,  that  Kate  could  not  help  suspecting 
that  his  ears  were  sharper  than  she  had  thought,  when 
she  stoutly  declared  to  Dick  that  it  was  utterly  impossi- 
ble he  could  have  heard  her  most  unluckily  worded  opin- 
ion.    She  felt  better,  however,  when  the  soup  was  gone. 

It  was  pleasant  to  see  Dick's  fair  head  at  the  bottom 
of  the  table  again,  even  though,  being  displeased  at  her 
comment  on  his  friend's  manner,  he  did  not  vouchsafe  to 
look  in  her  direction.  The  flowers,  too,  which  she  had 
arranged  for  the  table,  looked  very  pretty  as  the  gasHght 
fell  on  snowy  arums  glimmering  out  from  dark  emerald- 
fronded  ferns,  and  dainty  white  and  rose-colored  cycla- 
men nodding  their  delicate  fairy-like  heads  over  beds  of 
starry  primula ;  and  the  dark  shining  leaves  of  bay  and 
laurestinus.  The  massive  silver  on  the  sideboard,  the 
crimson  and  gold-patterned  china,  the  lire  crackling  cheer- 
ily in  its  frame  of  white  and  blue  Dutch  tiles,  all  made 
up  a  picture  warm  and  bright  in  coloring.  Even  the 
street  noises  sounded  dull  and  subdued  through  the 
heavy  tapestry  curtains,  their  once  gorgeous  hues  toned 
down  by  age  and  smoke  to  a  subdued  tint  of  dusky  rich- 
ness. 

Lady  Margaret  was  smiling  and  chatting  to  her  neigh- 
bor, and  making  occasional  oiislaughts  on  the  imaginary 
fly  at  one  and  the  same  time.  Mrs.  Marryatt  was  trying 
to  find  out  why  Dick  had  returned  from  college  in  the 
.middle  of  the  Lent  Term;  and  Dick  was  trying  to  foil 
her  by  pretending  a  great  interest  in  the  state  of  her 
health.  Mr.  Philpots  and  Miss  Fothergill  w^ere  whisper- 
ing— or  rather  Miss  Fothergill  was  whispering  (some 
young  ladies  always  will :  it  has  a  sweet,  confidential  air) 
■ — and  Mr.  Philpots  was  staring  at  Kate,  and  wondering 
who  the  tall,  ugly  man,  with  the  eye-glass  and  the  super- 
cilious mouth,  could  be.  A  stranger  certainly,  and  not  a 
talkative  one,  for  he  hardly  spoke  to  Kate;  but  that  only 
proved  him  the  more  in  love  with  her,  according  to  the 
Rev.  Herbert  Philpots. 

In  that  young  man's  eyes,  no  one  could  look  at  Miss 


PRE TTY  MISS  BELLE  IV.  2 1 

Bellew  without  falling  in  love  with  her.  He  was  sur- 
rounded by  a  legion  of  imaginary  rivals,  each  of  whom 
appeared  to  him,  for  the  time  being,  as  the  one  and 
only  obstacle  in  the  way  of  his  own  love;  and  yet  I 
very  much  doubt  whether,  if  Kate  and  he  had  been 
shut  up  alone  in  a  desert  island  for  a  dozen  years,  he 
would  have  ever  found  courage  to  hint  at  the  warmth 
of  his  feelings  to  the  young  lady  then  sitting  opposite 
to  him,  her  bright  round  eyes  turned  fondly  on  that 
scapegrace  Dick,  and  her  pretty  round  arms,  with  the 
bewitching  little  dimples  at  wrist  and  elbow,  just  visible 
through  a  break  in  the  screen  of  leaves  and  flowers 
between  them.  Somehow,  and  despite  Miss  Fothergill's 
prattling,  the  Rev.  Herbert  found  himself  engaged  in 
metaphysical  communings  as  to  the  wide  ditterence 
between  things  called  by  the  same  name — as,  for  in- 
stance, elbows  and  wrists. 

Given  an  elbow,  or  wrist,  thought  the  curate,  and 
every  one  fancies  that  he  understands  one  and  the  same 
object  as  signified  by  that  title;  but  show  an  elbow  or  a 
wrist — glance  at  that  soft,  creamy,  dimpled  arm  of 
Kate's,  and  then  turn  to  the  red  and  "goosey"  hook 
imperfectly  concealed  by  Miss  Fothergill's  short  lace 
sleeves,  and  the  red  and  shiny  knob  not  at  all  concealed 
by  Miss  Fothergill's  jingling  bracelets — and  would  any 
one  dare  pronounce  that  two  substantives  so  utterly 
different  couM  or  should  come  under  the  same  defini- 
tion ? 

Poor  Miss  Fothergill !  It  was  not  her  fault  that  she 
was  thin — i)ainfully  thin.  She  did  her  best,  and  tried 
to  make  up  for  the  scarcity  of  flesh  and  blood  by  show- 
ing a  liberal  display  of  bone.  Her  pink  silk  dress  was 
dt'colletec — very  much  so;  and  yet  there  was  no  shadow 
of  impropriety  in  it !  It  might  have  been  more  decolletee 
yet  without  even  calling  a  frown  to  the  rigid  brow  of 
Mrs.  General  de  Ponsonby,  or  reminding  the  most  im- 
aginative of  aught  besides  those  attenuated  savages  at 
the  entrance  to  the  Crystal  Palace  nave.  You  looked  at 
her  and  you  felt  pity — pity  and  a  great  desire  to  cover 
those    poor   shivering  shoulder-blades    with    something 


2  2  PRI^  TT  \ '  MISS  BELLE  W. 

warmer  than  the  slight  raiment  of  violet-powder :  traces 
of  which  were  visible  on  Mr.  Philpots's  right  sleeve  and 
shoulder,  thus  as  it  were  (in  the  language  of  South 
American  sheep-farmers)  marking  him  as  pertaining  to 
the  Fothergill  fold. 

He  was  aware  of  the  premature  seal  of  proprietor- 
ship himself,  and  fancying  (of  course)  that  every  one 
at  table  was  equally  interested  in  the  fact,  hated  Miss 
Fothergill  with  a  hatred  which  was  basely  ungrateful; 
for  she  was  doing  her  very  best  to  amuse  him,  chatter- 
ing away  at  the  top  of  her  high,  vivacious  voice,  with 
little  "staccato"  notes  of  exclamation,  and  shrill  inter- 
ludes of  youthful  laughter  bubbling  up,  as  it  were,  from 
the  very  overflowing  of  her  joyous  nature. 

"I  went  to  the  florist's  about  the  Easter  decorations," 
she  was  saying,  leaning  over  the  hapless  Herbert,  and 
writing  fresh  testimonies  on  his  broadcloth  with  the  hook 
afore-mentioned.  "You  told  mamma  that  you  wanted  to 
have  all  the  details  arranged  a  good  while  beforehand, 
this  year;  so  I  went  at  once;  and — oh,  fancy  ! — I  walked 
all  the  way  alone!  It  was  in  the  afternoon,  too;  and 
mamma  was  quite  shocked.  She  said,  'Flora,  I  can't 
allow  it.  Suppose  some  rude  man  was  to  speak  to  you !' 
and  indeed  I  did  feel  a  little  nervous ;  but  I  knew  no 
one  has  flowers  like  Luckings,  and  I  put  on  a  thick, 
thick  veil — oh !  I  don't  think  even  you  would  have 
known  me — but  just  fancy  being  seen  alone,  and  nearly 
a  mile !  and  people  do  say  such  things  if  a  girl  is  at  all — 
you  know — independent;  but  indeed  I  almost  ran  all  the 
way;  and  you  don't  think  it  was  fast  of  me,  Mr.  Phil- 
pots,  do  you  ?  I  held  my  parasol  close  in  front  of  my 
face,  you  know,  when  any  one  looked  at  all — at  all  par- 
ticularly, you  know. — Kate!"  (catching  Miss  Bellew's 
eye,  and  leaning  more  forward  still  in  juvenile  eagerness) 
'^'■did  you  hear  of  my  going  all  the  way  to  Luckings's 
alone  on  Friday  ?  I  would  have  called  for  you,  only  I 
knew  you  would  be  out;  and  now  I  am  afraid  Mr. 
Philpots  thinks  me  a  dreadfully  wild  thing  for — " 

"Wild!"  repeated  Kate,  opening  her  brown  eyes  wide; 
"bless  me,  I  hope  Mr.  Philpots  couldn't  be  so  silly  I 
What  earthly  wildness  is  there  in  going  to  the  florist?" 


PRETTY  M/SS  BELLE IV. 


23 


"Only — alone,  you  know,"  said  Miss  Fothergill,  a  little 
quenched;  "and  in  the  afternoon  when  there  are  so  many 
people — men,  you  know — about." 

"Well;  but  the  men  don't  hurt  us,  do  they?"  asked 
Kate,  with  unsympathetic  bluntness. 

"  Oh  !  my  dear  Kate,  you  are  so  funny ;  but  every  one 
knows  what  strange  men  are  :  so  ver}- — very — " 

"Wild?"  suggested  CHve  suddenly,  and  with  extreme  . 
demureness.      "  H'm — very   strange   indeed.     I   thought 
they  were  pretty  civilized  in  these  parts." 

"Miss  Fothergill  means  common  men,  of  course,"  said 
the  Rev.  Herbert  in  mild  explanation.  "One  does  meet 
rough  specimens  everywhere  occasionally ;  and  I  have 
heard  of  their  speaking  to  ladies  now  and  then,  at  least 
when  they  were  young  and — ahem  ! — pretty." 

"People  always  hear  of  those  sort  of  things,"  said 
Kate,  demolishing  the  curate  with  the  first  note  of  her 
clear,  audacious  voice;  "but  I  don't  believe  in  them.  I 
know  I  go  everywhere  alone,  if  it  happens  to  be  neces- 
sary, and  no  one  ever  yet  si)oke  to  me." 

"  Mr.  Philpots  only  alluded  to  that  danger  in  connec- 
tion with  young  and  pretty  people.  It  was  not  a  general 
statement.  Miss  Bellew,"  put  in  Clive,  with  the  .same  de- 
mure languor  as  before. 

The  Rev.  Herbert  flushed  scarlet.  Did  this  insolent 
barrister  mean  to  insinuate  that  his  adorable  neighbor 
was  neither  young  nor  lovely  ?  Indignation  choked 
him ;  and  luckily,  before  he  had  recovered  sufficiently  for 
speech,  the  butler  touched  his  arm  with  "'Ock,  sir?"  and 
Miss  Fothergill  rushed  again  into  the  van.  She  was  not 
irate,  not  at  all.  Kate  had  in  a  manner  snubbed  her,  and 
the  stranger — who  had  probably  fallen  in  love  with  her 
across  the  table — was  returning  cut  for  cut, 

"  Perhaps  I  am  unfortunate,"  she  said,  with  a  little  sim- 
per. "Of  course  I  never  go  out  unchaperoned  in  general 
(so  funny  of  you,  dear  Kate,  to  do  such  things !) ;  but 
even  with  mamma,  people  have  stared  or  been  unpleas- 
ant. 1  remember  one  day  I  was  stepping  out  of  the  car- 
1  iage  at  Swan  and  Edgar's — I  wore  my  hair  in  curls  then, 
and  I  suppose  it  was  rather  thick   and   noticeable;  but 


24  PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 

what  can  you  do  to  hide  it  ?  I'm  sure  I  often  wish  I  had 
none — and  two  men  who  were  passing  stared  so  unpleas- 
antly, and  said  something  about  'a  pair  of  tongs.'  So 
rude  !  I  was  quite  frightened  ;  and  as  it  happens,  you 
know" — with  a  little  laugh — ''I  never  use  tongs.  All 
our  hair,  the  Fothergill  hair,  curls  quite  naturally." 

"  I  wonder  if  I  might  rush  out  into  the  hall  for  a  mo- 
ment," said  Clive  to  his  plate,  and  in  the  very  lowest  of 
whispers. 

•'The  hall !"  repeated  Kate,  the  quick-eared,  staring. 

"  Oh,  of  course  it  is  a  wild  desire,  but  I  should  hke  to 
scream.  However,  I  suppose  the  butler  wouldn't  ap- 
prove." 

"  Do  not  be  so  absurd,"  said  Kate,  rebuking  but  confi- 
dential. "I  don't  suppose  she  did  understand  what  they 
meant,  or  she  wouldn't  have  said  it." 

"You  understand  perfectly,  I  see,  but  I  suppose  you 
are  a  believer  in  your  sex's  simplicity. — No,  thank  you'' 
(to  the  servant  with  cream  tarts). 

"  No  ,  I  think  most  of  us  are  great  humbugs  generally. 
We  have  to  be  ;  but  then  we  humbug  ourselves  more  than 
we  do  other  people." 

"And  you  believe  that  your  friend  has  humbugged  her- 
self— I  use  your  own  expression,  so  make  no  apologies — 
into  fancying  that  she  could  not  walk  alone  in  Bayswa- 
ter?" 

"  Why  not  ?  And  what  is  the  matter  with  the  expres- 
sion?" 

"  Nothing;  it  is  both  forcible  and  lucid ;  though,  in  this 
case,  I  rather  doubt  its  correctness.  I  am  not  so  sure 
that  Miss  Fothergill  would  be  safe — from  all  classes." 

"What,  tipsy  men  ?  Oh!  but  one  meets  them  so  sel- 
dom, and — " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  I  don't  mean  tipsy  men." 

"Who  then?" 

"Anatomical  students." 

"Mr.  Clive,  I  don't  allow  these  sort  of  remarks.  Flora 
is  my  friend." 

"Exactly,  or  I  shouldn't  have  followed  your  lead  in 
making  game  of  her." 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 


25 


Kate  was  speechless  with  indignation. 

"But  I  thought  you  were  going  up  for  your  'little  go,' 
Mr.  Dick,"  said  Mrs.  Marryat^.  "Have  you  passed  it? 
because,  if  so,  I  ought  to  congratulate  you." 

"Passed  it?"  said  Dick,  hurriedly.  "Oh,  dear!  no. 
Let  me  give  you  some  port. — Burbage !  port  this  way." 

"No,  certainly  not,  Mr.  Dick,  thank  you.  I  have  been 
taking  claret.  You  know  we  were  so  surprised  to  hear 
you  would  be  in  town  all  the  spring.  Kate  mentioned  it 
to  our  Bessie;  but  I  said  impossible,  for  I  know  dear 
Lady  Margaret  A\as  so  anxious  that — " 

"13ut  you  are  drinking  nothing,  Mrs.  Marryatt ;  and 
this  claret  is  such  washy  stuff.  You  ought  to  take  that 
new  Greek  wine — what's  its  name  ? — that  doctors  arc  al- 
ways crying  up.  Hasn't  yours  recommended  it  to  you  ? 
You  have  Sir  James,  haven't  you  ?  " 

"Not  now.  Oh,  dear!  no;  I  was  obliged  to  change; 
he  took  no  interest,  none  at  all" — and  Mrs.  Marryatt 
forgot  college  matters  in  the  pathos  of  her  own  woes — 
"never  even  cared  to  find  out  what  \\a.s  the  matter  with 
me ;  and  so  utterly  unsympathetic  that — " 

"But,  my  dear  Lady  Margaret,"  said  Mr.  Marryatt 
ponderously,  "surely  it  is  time  he  should  choose  a  pro- 
fession. Our  departed  friend,  I  know,  thought  with  me 
that  a  young  man  cannot  begin  to  consider  his  way  of 
life  too  early ;  and  if  he  were  to  go  into  the  Church — " 

"But  he  won't.  That  is  just  what  he  won't,"  inter- 
rupted Lady  Margaret,'  always  ready  to  pour  out  her 
grievances  to  any  friendly  ear.  "And  Lord  Lovegoats 
will  never  forgive  it.  Such  a  nice  living,  Mr.  Marryatt ! 
a  little  damp  perhaps ;  but  such  a  sweet,  quiet  living,  with 
no  temptations — positively  no  temptations  to — to  do  any- 
thing! I  went  on  my  knees  to  my  uncle  to  get  him  to 
keep  it  for  Tom ;  but  he  declares  he  will  sell  it.  Is  it  not 
enough  to  break  my  heart  ?  " 

"  Most  distressing,  indeed.  The  irrational  perversity 
of  the  junior  male  sex  of  this  era  is  a  thing  to  be  de- 
plored by  all  right-minded — " 

"  Do  you  think  a  cross  of  white  violets  and  ivy  would 
look  well  ?"  murmured  Miss  Fothergill  in  the  curate's  ear. 


26  £RETTY  AIISS  BELLE W. 

"  Oh,  no  more  grapes,  please !     Kate  said  primroses  in 
moss ;  but  if  you  think  violets — " 

"Oh!  no,  Mr.  Marryatt,"  said  Kate,  "valentines  are 
not  only  for  silly  young  ladies.  You  should  see  our 
Dottie's  delight  in  hers.  J  sent  it  to  her;  and  she  came 
dancing  on  to  my  bed  in  the  morning,  holding  it  out,  with 
'See  what  a  dentleman  's  diven  me!'  as  triumphantly 
as  a  girl  of  sixteen  over  her  first  offer." 

"  Kate !  "  cried  Dick,  across  the  table,  "  do  you  know 
what  part  of  Syria  the  Amalekites  came  from  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Kate,  laughing.  "  I'll  ask  mamma. — 
Mamma!" — raising  her  voice.  And  then  Lady  Margaret 
looked  up  with  a  startled  smile,  and  gave  the  signal  for  ris- 
ing. No  one  but  Dick  knew  that  Kate  had  given  it  first 
and  by  his  suggestion.  These  young  Bellews  had  a  perfect 
code  of  secret  signs  and  countersigns ;  and  Lady  Margaret 
was  rather  prone  to  spinning  out  dessert  when  she  was  on 
her  family  hobby-horse. 

Kate  had  not  spoken  to  Clive  since  he  made  the  re- 
mark last  recorded;  nor  did  she  look  at  him  when  he 
held  the  door  ojDen  for  her  exit.  He  made  no  remark 
either;  but  he  smiled  slightly  as  she  passed  out  with  head 
erect  and  eyes  studiously  averted.  It  was  not  a  disagree- 
able smile :  rather  that  of  a  man  pleasantly  amused  by 
the  mischievous  caprices  of  a  frolicsome  kitten.  Kate, 
however,  thought  much  more  seriously  of  his  unjustifiable 
retort.  When  the  gentlemen  came  upstairs,  she  called 
Mr.  Philpots  to  her  at  once,  rais'ing  that  young  man  to 
the  seventh  heaven  by  so  doing;  and  then  dashed  him 
down  again  by  dismissing  him  with  a  {q.\n  bright  words  to 
turn  over  the  leaves  of  Miss  Fothergill's  music. 

"  You  have  such  a  correct  eye.  No  one  turns  over  so 
-  beautifully,"  Kate  said,  with  one  of  her  sweetest  smiles, 
as  she  slipped  away  and  flung  herself  into  an  argument 
going  on  between  Dick  and  Mr.  Marryatt,  privately  hop- 
ing the  while  that  Clive  would  feel  himself  in  disgrace, 
and  recognize  his  punishment.  "  He  wants  a  lesson," 
she  said  to  herself 

He  may  have  wanted  it,  but  he  did  not  appear  to  suffer 
from  it,  or  even  to  consider  himself  in  punishment  at  all. 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV.  27 

On  the  contrary,  after  a  word  or  two  of  a  merry  sort  with 
Lady  Margaret,  he  strolled  away  to  the  sofa-table,  where 
Eve  and  Madge,  in  white  muslin  frocks  with  blue  sashes, 
and  George,  with  a  clean  collar  so  preternaturally  stiffened 
that  it  had  cut  a  deep  line  in  his  fat  cheeks,  were  amus- 
ing themselves  with  drawing-room  propriety.  I  am 
afraid  Clive  broke  up  the  propriety  when  he  joined  the 
group.  At  any  rate,  Kate  heard  great  bursts  of  most  un- 
conventionally riotous  laughter  wafted  to  her  over  Mr, 
Marryatt's  prosing ;  and  saw  Eve's  pale  little  face  glow- 
ing quite  brightly,  while  Madge's  impetuous  voice  asked  : 

"  Didn't  you  think  there  were  so  many  of  us  ?  " 

"  I  fancy  I  thought  there  were  more." 

"  Why  ?  " 

"  From  certain  sounds  proceeding  from  a  room  down- 
stairs when  we  arrived  this  evening." 

"  Ah !  George,  I  told  you  what  a  noise  you  were 
making,"  said  Eve,  in  a  grown-up  little  voice,  as  anxious 
to  show  that  she  was  not  among  the  noisy  ones. 

"  It  was  Madge  too,"  growled  George,  "  and  Kate,  and 
Dottie.     You  needn't  talk  as  if  it  were  all  me." 

"  I  assure  you,"  said  Clive,  politely,  "  such  a  wild  idea 
never  crossed  my  mind.  I  only  wondered  not  to  see  you 
at  the  table." 

"There  was  not  room,"  said  Eve,  quietly,  "so  I  dined 
with  the  children  in  the  schoolroom." 

"But  you  always  dine  in  the  schoolroom  when  there 
is  company,  whether  there  is  room  or  not,"  put  in  George, 
crushingly,  "and  you  are  a  child  too.  You're  not  come 
out  yet,  and  people  are  always  children  till  they  come 
out.  Kate  says  so.  Kate  is  nineteen,  Mr.  Clive  ;  nd 
I'm  nine,  and  Eve — " 

"Yes,  Kate  wishes  it,"  said  Eve,  a  little  angrily,  but 
always  soft-voiced  and  dove-like.  "One  grown-up 
daughter  is  enough,  you  know.  When  Kate  is  married  I 
shall  come  out;  and,  besides,  our  dining-room  is  too 
small.     It  is  tiny." 

"  But  it  is  not  the  real  dining-room.  It  is  the  school- 
room," cried  George,  thrusting  his  oar  in  again  with  un- 
necessary candor.     We  use  the  real  dining-room  for  our 


28  PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 

lessons  and  play.  Miss  Smith  is  there  now.  You  can  go 
down  and  see  her,  if  you  Uke.  Mamma  said  she  would 
rather  use  the  little  one,  because  then  no  one  could  ex- 
pect her  to  give  dinner — " 

"  Don't  you  think  you  are  fatiguing  yourself  with  talk- 
ing?" said  Clive.  "Your  voice  is  very  powerful,  but  I 
think  it  must  want  a  rest.     Suppose  you  give  it  one." 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  said  George,  staring. 
"Are  you  a  doctor?  I  thought  you  were  a  lawyer.  I'm 
going  to  be  a  lawyer  some  day.  Burbage  told  Jane  that 
they  were  all  a  set  of  thieves,  but  I  don't  think  he  knows. 
He  told  me — " 

"Why,  Clive,"  cried  Dick,  coming  up  to  the  sofa- 
table,  "fancy  these  brats  getting  hold  of  you.  Eve,  what 
a  color  you've  got !  "  And  then  the  chatter  and  fun 
grew  noisier,  till  it  attracted  Mr.  Philpots  and  Miss 
Fothergill,  and  only  poor  Kate  was  compelled  to  go  on 
talking,  or  rather  listening,  to  Mr.  Marryatt,  as  he  waded 
on  and  on  in  a  sea  of  argument  about  something  in 
which  she  took  no  manner  of  interest  whatsoever. 

A  request  lor  a  "  little  music  "  released  her  at  last,  but 
Mr.  Marryatt  followed  her  with  officious  courtesy,  and  all 
through  her  song  she  could  hear  the  ripple  of  mirth,  only 
a  little  subdued,  from  the  other  end  of  the  room.  She 
did  not  miss  one  voice,  or  guess  that  the  antagonist  who 
had  spoiled  her  evening  was  sitting  apart  from  the  rest, 
drinking  In  each  note  of  the  pure,  sweet  contralto,  which 
trembled  with  such  pathetic  melody  over  one  of  those 
exquisitely  simple,  tear-compelling  ballads  of  one  of  our 
sweetest  English  composers.  She  had  forgotten  Clive 
just  as  he  had  remembered  her.  Only  those  who  love  to 
sing,  sing  well  or  lovably,  and  Kate's  heart  was  in  her 
song.  There  was  a  mist  over  Clive's  keen  blue  eyes  as 
she  finished,  and  he  started  when  Miss  Fothergill  spoke 
to  him. 

"Don't  you  admire  Miss  Bellew's  voice,  Mr.  Clive? 
People  generally  think  it  exceedingly  fine —  a  little  weak 
in  the  high  notes  perhaps,   don't  you  think  ? — but.  very 

touching.     M taught  her,  you  know.     Do  you   like 

his  style  ?  " 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEIV.  29 

"  I  really  can  hardly  tell  you,"  Clive  said.  "I  scarcely 
thought  about  it.     The  song  was  perfect." 

"But  you  didn't  care  about  the  singing?  Oh,  Mr. 
Clive,  I  am  surprised. — Kate,  I  find  Mr.  Clive  is  a  terribly 
severe  musical  critic.  I  shall  not  try  my  poor  little  voice 
before  him." 

After  that,  Kate  "punished"  Clive  by  singing  two  more 
songs,  and  Clive  enjoyed  them  heartily,  and  at  going  to 
bed  thanked  her  for  the  very  pleasant  evening  he  had 
Spent. 

But  Kate  was  not  satisfied  with  herself  She  had 
spoken  hastily  of  a  stranger,  using  an  unbecoming  phrase 
in  so  doing,  and  he  had  overheard  her,  which  of  itself  was 
enough  to  disturb  her;  and  then  she  had  rather  snubbed 
her  friend  at  her  own  table,  and  been  surprised  and 
offended  at  the  stranger  taking  up  her  cue  and  telling  her 
in  so  many  words  that  slie  was  to  blame  for  it.  Now, 
she  acknowledged  that  she  had  been  to  blame,  and  could 
not  be  satisfied  till  she  had  gone  into  her  mother's  room 
and  made  confession.  Poor  little  Kate !  She  was  always 
making  mistakes  from  not  staying  to  think  before  she 
.spoke.  She  was  just  as  quick  at  acknowledging  the  mis- 
takes, it  is  true,  and  making  atonement ;  but  is  there  not 
a  proverb  "shutting  the  stable  door"  ? 


CHAPTER  IV. 

MRS.    SPINKS'S    LODGER. 

IT  was  the  quietest  little  row  of  houses  imaginable — one 
of  those  rows  of  brand-new  suburban  cottages,  built 
of  yellow  brick  picked  out  with  white,  with  a  flight  of 
three  steps  up  to  the  front  door  of  each,  a  bow-window 
much  like -a  good-sized  bird-cage  in  the  front;  and  a 
square  of  dirt  or  grass  about  the  dimensions  of  a  table- 
cover  in  front  of  that.  A  row  of  houses,  each  of  which 
displays  the  identical  litde  round  table  flanked  by  a 
ricketty  chair  on  either  side,  and  crowned  by  a  crochet 
cover,  and  a  vase  of  highly  unnatural  wax  fruit,  under  a 
glass  shade,  in  every  aforesaid  bow-window  along  the 
hne ;  the  whole  shaded  by  ragged-looking  netted  curtains 
from  within,  and  pots  of  dusty,  withered  plants,  original 
nature  unknown,  without  —  houses  which  sprout  forth 
every  here  and  there  into  a  card  with  "  Furnished  Bed- 
room," or  a  brass  plate  with  the  tide,  "J.  Le  Feuvre, 
Prof  Dancing,"  or  "Miss  Binks,  Court  Dressmaker  and 
Milliner,"  engraved  on  it.  Not  aristocratic  houses, 
though.  Not  an  aristocratic  neighborhood  —  dull,  far 
away  from  everywhere,  badly  lit,  semi-paved,  with  other 
rows  of  half-built  houses  beyond,  and  visions  of  damp, 
stagnant  meadows,  and  intersecting  railway  arches  in  the 
background — a  place  to  make  you  depressed  as  you  skim 
past  it  in  a  railway  carriage,  r/i  route  for  Clapham  or  the 
Crystal  Palace — a  place  swarming  with  sickly,  aguish 
children,  lively  with  blue-mould  and  black-beetles,  and 
made  dangerous  by  a  gas-works  standing  precisely  in  the 

30 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 


31 


centre  of  the  deepest  and  blackest  quagmire,  in  the 
dampest  and  dismalest  of  the  outlying  slums  in  the 
neighborhood. 

Even  Mrs  Spinks,  standing  on  her  front  doorstep,  with 
the  red  light  of  the  setting  sun  in  her  eyes,  and  making 
little  green  and  purple  circles  in  the  chilly  spring  atmos- 
phere around  her,  yawned  drearily,  and  drew  mental 
contrasts  between  "  these  'ere  raw  new  places,  and  the  old 
three-pair-back  in  the  City.  Of  course  it  were  nicer  to 
ave  a  'ouse  of  your  own,  an'  let  lodgin's,  than  live  in 
hother  folks  'ouses,  an'  only  be  a  lodger  yourself;  but,  all 
the  same,  it  weren't  lively  when  you've  lived  in  a  bustlin' 
part,  with  nice  sociable  folk  about  you,  to  come  out  to  a 
gashly  'ole  like  this.  Certingly  the  school  was  handy, 
and  she  wouldn't  ha'  known  wot  to  do  without  it  for  her 
boys,  as  'ad  ought  to  be  in  afore  now,  an'  'ad  their  teas 
afore  the  lodger  come  'ome  an'  wanted  hers,  which  'ere 
she  were,  a-comin'  up  the  street  now,  and  perhaps  'er  fire 
out — who  knows  ?  Not  that  she's  a  fault-findin'  one,  or, 
for  the  matter  o'  that,  one  to  talk  much  about  anythink." 

She  did  not  look  like  a  talker — not,  at  any  rate,  like  one 
who  would  have  wasted  much  conversation  on  Mrs. 
Spinks  :  a  tall  woman,  with  a  beautiful,  upright  figure,  and 
the  face  of  a  queen — calmly  proud,  and  coldly  fair. 
Plain  as  were  her  black  dress  and  mantle — plain  almost 
to  meagreness — they  fell  about  her  with  something  of  the 
grace  of  a  regal  vesture ;  and  her  step  was  as  firm,  her 
graceful  head  as  lofty,  as  though  she  had  just  walked 
down  from  a  throne  for  familiar  intercourse  with  her  sub- 
jects. 

There  are  some  people  who  seem,  as  it  were,  born  to 
the  purple.     Mrs.  Spinks's  lodger  was  one  of  them. 

She  looked  tiretl,  too,  this  poor  queen — obliged  to  rent 
a  humble  pair  of  rooms  at  No.  2,  Alma  Terrace — tired 
and  disappointed,  with  a  pale  worn  shadow  about  the 
broad  brow,  and  quiet  resolute  mouth.  Even  Mrs. 
Spinks  noticed  it,  and  as  she  moved  aside  for  the  conven- 
ience of  her  lodger's  ingress,  said,  sympathetically  : 

"  Good  evenin',  m'm.  You  do  look  rarely  beat,  to  be 
sure." 


32  PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 

"  I  am  a  little  tired — thank  you  " — spoken  in  a  low, 
rich  tone,  which  yet  told  of  more  than  bodily  fatigue. 

•'An'  '11  be  glad  of  a  good  cup  of  tea,  I  daresay, 
in'm.  I'll  have  it  ready  for  you  dreckly.  The  kettle  'ave 
been  bilin'  this  hour  or  more,  an'  I  were  just  alookin'  out 
for  they  two  limbs  o'  mischief  o'  mine,  which  they'd 
ought  to  ha'  been  'ome  these  twenty  minutes.  ^^  Mrs. 
Giles's  little  gurrls  at  No.  8,  they  comed  'ome  more'n  a 
bit  ago.     An'  what'll  you  take  with  your  tea,  m'm?" 

"  Nothing,  thank  you,  except  a  piece  of  toast." 

"Which  there  is  not  a  very  clear  fire  in  the  kitchen  for 
that,  m'm,  an'  I  won't  deceive  you ;  but  the  kettle  it 
biled  over,  and  rouked  up  all  the  ashes,  besides  of  black- 
in'  the  coals." 

"  Never  mind,  then  ;  I  can  do  it  in  the  parlor,"  said  the 
lodger,  resignedly,  as,  untying  her  bonnet-strings,  she  sat 
down  with  the  heavy  air  of  one  too  weary  to  care  for 
anything  but  rest.     Mrs.  Spinks  stared  at  her  curiously. 

"You  do  look  beat,  m'm.  Won't  you  'ave  nothink 
more  than  the  toast  ?  I'd  bile  you  a  hegg  in  no  time;  or 
couldn't  you  fancy  a  snack  of  bacon,  now  ?  It  'ud  do 
you  good,  for  you  don't  look  as  if  you'd  'ad  no  dinner  to 
speak  on." 

"I  was  too  busy  to  take  any  ;  but  I  would  rather  have 
nothing  but  tea,  thank  you,  Mrs.  Spinks."  And  then  she 
got  up  to  avoid  any  more  talking,  and  went  into  the  inner 
room. 

Mrs.  Spinks  poked  the  fire,  made  it  smoke,  and  de- 
parted rather  irritably. 

"This  is  the  fourth  day  as  she've  been  hout  from 
mornin'  to  sundown,  an'  come  in  'alf  dead,  an'  never  says 
a  word  of  where  she's  been  or  nothin'  to  nobody,"  the 
good  woman  said  to  her  husband,  who  was  smoking  his 
pipe  in  the  kitchen. 

"  Don't  she  pay  you  your  rent  reg'lar  ?  " 

"She  do  i-hat,  Spinks,  which  I  won't  deny." 

"Or  are  she  all  'ung  about  with  mock  jools;  or  are  she 
dressed  like  the  decent  widder  body  she  calls  'erself?" 

"Which  I  'ave  //^Z  seen  a  jool  about  'er  yet,  mock  nor 
real,"  murmured  Mrs.  Spinks. 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW.  33 

"  No,  nor  you  ain't  no  call  to  see  what  aren't  theer." 

"Well,  Spinks,  an'  did  I  say  as  I  'ad?"  remonstrated 
Mrs.  Spinks,  in  a  slightly  aggravated  'tone,  as  she  tilted 
the  kettle  forward  with  a  view  to  pouring  some  of  its  con- 
tents into  the  tea-pot.  ''rm  sure  as  I've  never  said  noth- 
ink  agin  'er,  except  as  she  is  not  like  other  women,  but  a 
deal  stiffer  an'  closer,  an'  that  I'll  stick  to." 

"A  deal  less  talk,  you  mean,  an'  a  good  job,  too," 
growled  Mr.  Spinks.  "Now  then!"  (as  two  red-headed, 
out-of-elbowed  urchins  tumbled  pell-mell  into  the  kitchen, 
kicking  each  other's  shins,  and  shouting  at  the  top  of 
their  voices)  "Ow's  a  man  to  smoke  'is  pipe  in  peace,  with 
a  couple  of  scamjjs  like  you  a-rearin'  an'  a-tearin'  round 
'im  like  a  kupple  o'  wild  'osses  ?  " 

"An'  upsettin'  of  the  lodger's  tea!"  cried  Mrs.  Spinks, 
pouncing  on  the  new-comers,  and  administering  "clout- 
ing" with  a  vigor  which  was  partly  attributable  to  the  fact 
that  the  tea  spilled  was  that  "first  cuj),"  which  landladies 
consider  their  rightful  perquisite,  out  of  the  lodger's  tea- 
pot. 

That  lady  meanwhile  was  sitting  over  the  small  fire  in 
her  cheerless  little  drab-walled  parlor,  upstairs.  The 
wind,  which  had  risen  since  she  came  in,  shook  the  crazy 
frame  of  the  miniature  bow-window,  and  made  it  creak 
and  quiver  as  though  it  were  about  to  part  bodily  from 
the  rest  of  the  house.  Even  the  badly-starched  netted 
curtains  fluttered  their  dingy  festoons;  and  now  and  then 
little  jiuffs  of  smoke  rushed  out  of  tlie  grate  into  the 
lodger's  face,  and  would  have  brought  water  into  her 
eyes — but  that  it  was  there  already;  and  the  long  white 
fingers  had  hard  ado  to  stem  the  bitter  tide  which  strove 
to  overflow  their  slender  outposts,  as,  with  head  bowed 
almost  to  her  knees,  she  gave  way  to  the  grief  so  long 
and  sternly  hidden. 

It  was  not  for  long.  A  noisy  clattering,  and  then  a 
sort  of  jingling  bump  at  the  door,  as  though  the  tray  had 
walked  upstairs  of  itself  and  was  kicking  for  admittance, 
announced  Mrs.  Spinks  wilii  the  tea;  and  in  one  second 
the  lady  had  dashed  away  her  tears,  drawn  herself  erect, 
ind  straightened  the  sober  little  widow's-cap  which  sat 
3 


34  PRETTY  MISS  BELLE W. 

with  such  strange,  sad  suitabiHty  on  her  waveless  bands 
of  golden  hair. 

When  the  landlady  entered,  her  face  was  turned  to  the 
fire;  and  she  appeared  to  be  too  languid,  or  too  busy 
warming  her  hands,  to  turn  round. 

"Why,  if  you  ain't  hall  in  the  dark,  m'm!"  cried  the 
good  woman.  "I'd  ought  to  ha'  lighted  the  gas,  ought- 
n't I  ?  which  I'll  do  it  now ;  an'  a  nasty  night  it  is,  a 
blowin'  one's  'ead  hofif  if  one  puts  it  houtside  fur  'alf  a 
minute  ;  an'  'ere's  the  toastin'-fork,  m'm.  You're  sure  as 
you  wont  'ave  a  hegg  now  ?" 

"  Quite  sure,  thank  you.  I  shall  want  nothing  more 
till  I  ring  for  the  things  to  be  taken  away." 

The  lady  spoke  gently,  but  still  she  kept  her  eyes  on 
the  fire;  and  Mrs.  Spinks  was  hufied. 

"Hif  one's  good  enuft'to  be  spoke  to,  one's  good  enuff 
to  be  looked  at,"  as  she  remarked  to  her  husband,  after 
jerking  the  tray  on  to  the  table,  and  shutting  the  door 
with  a  bang  suggestive  of  her  bruised  and  mortified  feel- 


*&&^ 


logs. 


The  lodger  did  not  perceive  it.  A  slight  shiver  indeed 
passed  over  her  shoulders  at  the  noisy  closing  of  the 
door;  but  it  was  very  slight,  as  of  one  used  to  such  ebul- 
litions; and  then  her  head  dropped  on  her  hands  again. 
The  gas  had  been  lit,  and  flared  up  upon  the  low,  smoke- 
browned  ceiling,  the  drab  walls,  patterned  by  a  species  of 
decayed  cabbages,  and  enlivened  by  three  pictures  in 
black  frames — one,  a  gorgeous  print  of  a  Scripture  sub- 
ject ;  another  consisting  of  an  oil  painting  so  black  with 
age,  smoke,  and  dirt,  as  to  present  no  distinguishable  ob- 
ject to  the  beholder  save  a  pyramidal  black  mass,  with  a 
dirty  round  smear  somewhere  near  the  top,  and  just  below 
it  two  grimy  white  patches,  supposed  to  be  a  portrait  in- 
tended to  represent  some  worthy  in  gown  and  bands; 
and  the  third,  plain  to  see,  being  simply  a  family  group  of 
Spinks  photographs  cut  out  and  pasted  pyramidally  in  one 
common  frame :  a  work  of  art  doubtless  most  precious  to 
the  originals  themselves;  and  useful  even  to  strangers  as 
conveying  a  warning,  wherever  else  you  went  "to  be 
taken,"  not  to  go  to  that  photographer. 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV.  35 

Over  the  fireplace  was  a  mirror,  two  feet  high  by  four 
wide,  the  once  gilt  frame  obscured  by  soot-blacked  green 
gauze,  the  surface  wavy.  Below  it,  on  the  mantel-piece, 
were  tastefully  disposed  a  couple  of  large  mother-of-pearl 
shells,  Hanked  by  a  white  and  blue  china  vase  filled  with 
spills  at  either  corner;  a  pedestal  supporting  a  plaster  of 
Paris  bust  of  Dickens  under  a  glass  shade,  in  the  centre. 

In  the  middle  of  the  much  worn  drugget,  bought  sec- 
ond-hand from  the  pawnbroker,  stood  the  table,  covered 
with  a  cheap,  brand-new  cloth,  in  red  and  blue  squares  ; 
facing  the  bow-window,  a  narrow  horse-hair  sofa,  with 
the  stuffing  protruding  in  sundry  places,  and  partly  con- 
cealed by  a  ragged  crochet  anti-macassar:  this  in  connec- 
tion with  half  a  dozen  chairs  more  or  less  disabled, 
the  little  table  aforementioned  in  the  bow-window,  and  a 
lady's  davenport  in  inlaid  woods,  strikingly  out  of  keep- 
ing with  the  rest  of  the  apartment,  completing  the  furni- 
ture which  Mrs.  Spinks  had  brought  into  light  by  way  of 
cheering  her  lady  lodger. 

The  general  result  was — not  successful ! 

There  is  no  good  in  crying,  however,  when  no  one 
cares  whether  you  do  or  not ;  neither  is  there  any  use  in 
letting  your  tea  get  cold,  when  it  is  already  so  weak  that 
it  only  requires  to  lose  its  heat  to  be  positively  undrinka- 
ble,  and  is  the  only  meal  you  are  likely  to  get  for  the 
next  twelve  hours. 

And  besides,  in  Mrs.  Spinks's  gas  there  was  a  cold, 
glaring  unsympathy,  a  tacitly  chilling  effect  on  the  emo- 
tions, which  the  lady  appeared  to  recognize.  She  had 
just  dried  her  tears  again,  and  swallowed  one  cup  of  the 
lukewarm  water  miscalled  tea,  with  a  slice  of  the  bread 
and  butter  which  she  had  no  heart  to  toast,  when  both 
she  and  the  family  in  the  basement  were  startled  by  a 
noise  very  unusual  in  those  parts. 

-AW-a-tat-tat-tat-tat-TAT ! 

"It  were  the  fust  time,"  and  Mrs.  Spinks  said  it  advis- 
edly, "  the  fust  time  as  she'd  ever  'eard  sich  a  clatterin'  at 
'er  door  in  all  'er  born  days ;  an'  it  brought  the  'eart  into 
'er  mouth,  it  did.  The  lodger,  she  were  used  to  givin' 
one  o'  they  long  shivery-shaky  little  knocks  at  the  door, 


36 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 


seemindly  as  if  her  wrists  weren't  strong  enough  for  one 
good  rap ;  but  she  never  made  a  noise  hke  this,  nor  yet 
corned  a-dashin'  an'  clashin'  up  to  the  'ouse  in  a  'ansom 
cab,  a-frightenin'  'er  so  as  she  could  'ardly  find  breath  to 
get  to  the  door." 

Nevertheless  Mrs.  Spinks  did  get  to  the  door,  severely 
snubbing  the  offers  from  both  boys  to  fulfill  that  office  for 
her;  and  being  indeed  devoured  with  curiosity  to  know 
what  the  person  wanted  who  had  put  her  nerves  to  such 
unseemly  torture. 

Her  curiosity  mounted  tenfold  when,  on  opening  the 
portal,  she  found  herself  confronted  by  a  tall  gentleman 
in  a  light  overcoat,  whose  voice  had  an  awe-inspiring 
sharpness  and  authority  as  he  asked : 

"  You  have  a  lady  lodger  here  haven't  you  ?  " 

"  Certingly,"  said  Mrs.  Spinks,  defiantly,  "  which  I 
have  no  call  to  deny  it;  an'  what  may  your  pleasure  be  ?" 

"  Be  so  kind  as  to  give  her  my  card,  and  say  I  hope 
she  will  excuse  the  lateness  of  my  call." 

He  handed  her  the  card  as  he  spoke,  and  Mrs.  Spinks 
received  it  dubiously  between  a  grimy  thumb  and  finger, 
and  read  the  name  on  it  with  leisurely  suspicion,  before 
taking  it  in  to  her  lodger  with  the  brief  announcement : 

"A  gentleman  a-wantin'  you,  m'm." 

"A  gentleman!  " 

Curiosity  mounted  higher  still  before  that  white  face 
and  startled  look.  Without  glancing  at  the  card,  the  lady 
added  quickly : 

"  Did  he  know  my  name  ? — ask  for  me  by  name,  I 
mean  ?  " 

"  He  said  'the  lady  as  lodges  with  you,  Mrs.  Spinks, 
m'm,'"  replied  the  landlady,  severely,  "which  I'm  free  to 
confess  also  as  he  howned  it  were  not  a  hour  when  he'd 
any  right  to  be  visitin'  a  lone  woman." 

The  pale  face  flushed  and  the  proud  lip  twitched. 

"Say  I  am  not  at  home — not  well  enough  to  receive 
any  visitors."  She  added  the  last  half  of  the  sentence 
after  a  startled  glance  at  the  name  on  the  card ;  but  it 
came  too  late.  Tired  of  waiting  on  the  step,  the  visitor 
had  advanced  farther  up  the  passage,  and  was  now  look- 
ing over  the  landlady's  shoulder. 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 


37 


"  Forgive  my  intrusion,  Mrs.  Grey,"  he  said,  taking  ofif 
his  hat,  and  showing  a  clever,  plain  face,  lit  by  a  pair  of 
wonderfully  keen  blue  eyes.  "It  is  horribly  late;  but 
surely  you  won't  send  me  away,  after  I  have  come  all 
these  miles  to  see  and  shake  hands  with  you  again." 

He  moved  Mrs.  Spinks  unceremoniously  out  of  the 
opening  as  he  spoke,  and  receiving  no  farther  rebuff, 
nodded  cavalierly  to  that  ill-used  woman,  and  shut  the 
door  in  her  face. 

"Which  you  may  call  it  what  you  like,  Spinks,"  cried 
the  landlady  as,  after  a  vain  attempt  at  hearing  what  was 
going  on  within,  she  flounced  downstairs,  red  with  in- 
dignation and  stooping,  "but  remember  as  I  warned  you 
this  wery  hevenin'  as  ever  lived,  Spinks.  If  you'll  believe 
me,  'er  face  turned  to  the  whiteness  of  hashes,  an'  she 
looked  all  for  one  as  Martha  Briggs  did  the  day  she  was 
'ad  up  for  not  registerin'  'er  baby,  poor  gurrl !" 

"  P'raps  he's  'er  'usbin,"  suggested  Mr.  Spinks,  removing 
his  pipe  in  the  interest  of  the  moment,  "an'  she've  sloped 
acause  of 'is  beatin'  'er;  an'  he've  been  a-lookin'  arter  'er 
'igh  an'  low  to — " 

"  Pah ! "  broke  in  Mrs.  Spinks,  with  ladylike  scorn  for 
the  tame  supposition.  "Didn't  I  'ear  'im  speak  to  her? 
and  did  he  speak  as  a  'usbin  docs  ?  Now  I  ask  you  that, 
did  he?" 

"  Not  being  theer,  I  ain't  free  to  say,"  said  Mr.  Spinks, 
putting  his  pipe  into  his  mouth  again,  after  a  preliminary 
blow  at  the  ashes,  and  with  the  air  of  one  too  used  to  be- 
ing snubbed  to  resent  it. 

I  agree  with  Mrs.  Spinks.  There  was  little  of  marital 
authority  in  the  grave,  kindly,  almost  affectionate  tone  of 
Bernartl  Clive's  voice,  as  he  took  the  widow's  hand  in  his, 
saying,  reproachfully : 

"  Mrs.  Grey,  why  have  you  run  away  and  hidden  your- 
self from  us  like  this  ?  " 


CHAPTER   V. 

dick's  difficulties. 

A  CONCLAVE  was  sitting  in  the  dining-room  of  No. 
j\  15,  Gresham  Square,  the  terrible  "Council  of  Three" 
revivified,  only  consisting  of  the  unterrifying  elements  of 
Lady  Margaret,  Dick,  and  Bernard  Clive.  Breakfast 
over,  which  was  a  family  meal,  this  trio  had  remained 
below  after  the  dispersion  of  the  rest ;  and  George,  racing 
in  there  about  eleven  to  refresh  his  brain  as  to  the  sepa- 
rate quotients  of  nine  times  thirteen  and  thirteen  times 
nine,  had  been  expelled  with  a  promptitude  which  sent 
him  in  a  scarlet  and  injured  condition  to  his  studies,  re- 
marking indignantly  that  mamma  was  crying,  and  Dick 
in  such  a  temper  as  never  was.  "  Why  ever  didn't  he 
stay  away  instead  of  coming  home  to  make  everything 
disagreeable,  and  push  a  fellow  out  by  the  shoulders 
directly  he  put  his  nose  into  a  room  ?  " 

"  I  think  it  is  a  pity  you  are  not  both  away,"  said  Eve, 
in  her  quiet  little  voice.  "There  is  never  any  peace  or 
rest  where  there  are  boys — is  there.  Miss  Smith  ? — 
Madge,  that  is  the  ninth  time  you  have  struck  the' wrong 
note  in  that  bar." 

"I  can't  help  it;  my  finger  -un//  slip,"  said  Madge, 
almost  tearfully.  "There!  " — as  another  hideous  discord 
made  Eve  put  her  fingers  into  her  delicate  little  ears. 

"  I  think  if  you  tried  you  could  help  it,  my  dear,"  said 
patient   Miss  Smith,  resignedly ;  and  then   Kate's  voice 
was  heard  in  gay  exclamation  as  she  opened  the  dining- 
room  door. 
38 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV.  7,9 

"  Dick  won't  push  her  out,"  said  George. 

Kate  was  quite  unaware  of  the  existence  of  conclaves, 
tears,  or  disputes.  After  breakfast  she  had  run  upstairs 
as  usual,  to  perform  the  young-lady-like  duties  which  fell 
to  her  share  as  eldest  daughter — the  flowers  to  be  watered 
and  rearranged  in  conservatory  and"  drawing-room ;  the 
canary  to  be  fed;  an  evening  dress  to  be  examined  and 
handed  over  for  repairs  to  the  maid,  who  divided  her 
services  between  Lady  Margaret  and  the  two  elder  girls ; 
and  a  couple  of  notes  to  be  written,  one  of  which  re- 
quired a  great  deal  of  pen-nibbling  and  meditation,  with 
the  pretty  head  very  much  on  one  side,  and  the  pretty 
rose-tipped  fingers  rumpling  the  bronze  locks  in  a  terrible 
fashion. 

"Horrid  thing!"  muttered  Kate,  with  her  forehead 
drawn  into  a  very  mother-bunch  of  wrinkles,  and  stabbing 
her  pen  viciously  through  a  mistake.  "  I  wish  we  lived  in 
America,  where  you  can  always  call  on,  or  invite,  the  one 
member  of  a  family  that  you  want  to  see,  and  the  others 
never  dream  of  being  offended.  I  tell  you  what  it  is  " 
(there  was  no  one  to  tell  it  to  but  Twitters  the  canary, 
and  Tidlums  the  Persian  kitten,  but  that  didn't  matter), 
"  there  is  something  very  wrong  in  society  in  this  country, 
and  I  wish  some  one  would  alter  it.  I've  a  good  mind 
to  write  a  letter  to  the  Times.  As  if  one  wanted  all  those 
Bickersteth  girls !  Oh,  why  wasn't  Mildred  born  first,  so 
that  she  miglu  have  been  given  the  precedence  by  right  ?  " 
Kate  was  still  rumpling  her  locks,  and  wishing  that  a 
letter  to  the  Times  might  have  remedied  this  second  error 
as  well,  when  a  message  came  to  her  that  it  was  time  to 
dress  for  her  ride;  and  finishing  in  hot  haste  the  letter 
over  which  she  had  been  puzzling  so  long,  she  dashed  up- 
stairs to  dress  ;  then  rememberuig  of  a  sudden  the  delight- 
ful fact  of  Dick's  presence  downstairs,  hurriedly  buttoned 
her  riding  habit,  and  ran  down  to  secure  his  services  as 
cavalier  in  the  park,  instead  of  those  of  her  usual  attend- 
ant. 

"  And   upon  my  word,  never  stirred  since  breakfast ! 
You  three  idle —     Why,  what's  the  matter  ?  " 

She  had  burst  into  the  room  bright  and  smiling,  with 


40  PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 

a  host  of  saucy  dimples  playing  about  her  rosy  cheeks; 
but  she  broke  oft"  sliarply,  for  Lady  Margaret,  her  cap 
more  awry  than  usual,  was  leaning  back  in  the  big  leathern 
armchair  with  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes ;  Dick, 
flushed  and  angry-looking,  with  his  legs  crossed  and  his 
chair  tilted  back,  was  talking  in  sharp,  petulant  tones; 
and  Mr.  CUve,  looking  up  from  a  pile  of  papers  before 
which  he  was  seated,  appeared  to  be  remonstrating  with 
his  usual  half-lazy  sarcasm. 

Outside,  above  the  brown  wire  blinds,  a  thousand  little 
silvery  buds,  tipped  with  green,  peeped  hardily  out  on 
every  twig  and  bough  of  the  bare,  spidery,  brown  branches 
of  elm  and  hawthorn  in  the  square,  against  a  background 
of  pale  blue  sky,  heaped  up  with  ragged,  snow-white 
clouds.  Bells  were  ringing  in  the  distance;  a  man  crying 
"  Chfckweed  !  "  at  the  corner ;  and  above  and  over  all  the 
pale  February  sunshine  was  streaming  cheerily,  lighting 
up  the  dark  oak-colored  walls  of  the  small  dining-room, 
and  bringing  out  all  the  cracks  in  the  paint  and  all  the 
dinginess  in  the  frames  of  the  venerable  paintings,  which 
looked  down  in  all  the  dignity  of  faded  oils  and  family 
pomp  upon  the  modern  group  beneath.  Sunlight  is  a  ter- 
rible foe  to  age,  and  dust,  and  tarnish.  It  shines  out 
very  beneficially  on  a  bright,  pretty  face,  framed  in  waving 
hair,  and  a  ripe  young  figure  trimly  buttoned  up  in  a 
dark  blue  habit ;  but  it  points  rebukingly  to  the  lines  of 
temper  and  dissipation,  laughs  ill-naturedly  at  time-worn 
carpets  and  faded  mahogany,  and  is  generally  disagree- 
ably officious  in  showing  up  things  not  meant  to  be  seen. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  said  Kate,  seeing  that  no  one 
answered  her.  "  Mother,  has  any  one  been  worrying 
you?"  And  then  she  went  and  put  her  warm,  soft  arm 
round  Lady  Margaret's  shoulder,  and  glared  indignantly 
at  Clive.  There  was  no  one  else  to  glare  at — except 
Dick ;  and  Kate's  eyes  could  not  have  glared  at  him. 

Said  Dick,  snappishly,  "  Nonsense,  Kittie.  We  are  only 
talking  business ;  but  my  mother  always  makes  a  fuss. 
There !  be  off.  There's  no  need  for  you  to  worry  about 
it." 

"A  fuss!"  sobbed  Lady  Margaret,  looking  indignantly 


PRE  TTY  MISS  BELLE  W.  4 1 

over  her  handkerchief.  "  How  can  you  be  so — so  cruel, 
Dick  ?  But  you  will  kill  me  some  day.  It  is  dreadful. 
— Is  it  not  dreadful,  Mr.  Clive  ?  Five  hundred  pounds 
more  than  his  allowance  gone  in  nine  months;  and  then 
this — this  wicked — " 

"Need  we  enter  upon  it  before  Miss  Bellew?"  said 
Clive,  gently.  "  Perhaps,  as  Dick  suggests,  it  is  not  nec- 
essary she  should  be  troubled  about  such  matters." 

•'Troubled!"  repeated  Kate,  haughtily.  "Everything 
that  troubles  my  mother  and  Dick  troubles  me,  Mr. 
Clive;  he  has  no  secrets  from  me,  not  any  "  (with  empha- 
sis), "and  certainly  what  a  stranger  can  discuss  I  may 
hear." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  most  humbly,"  said  Clive,  veiling 
irony,  which  Kate  felt  in  every  nerve,  beneath  profound 
politeness.  "  I  was  foolish  enough  to  imagine  that  vour 
brother  did  not  initiate  you  into  all  his  private  aftairs,  and 
equally  foolish  in  fancying  that  you  would  not  desire  to 
enter  into  them  in  public.  I  had  forgotten,  however, 
how  much  advanced  in  these  subjects  young  ladies  have 
grown  of  late.     Pray  forgive  my  interference." 

"  Don't  be  a  goose,  Kate,"  put  in  Dick,  ungraciously. 
"You  don't  know  what  you  are  talking  about." 

"My  dear  Kate,"  said  Lady  Margaret,  remonstrating. 
"Mr.  Clive  is  quite  right.  This  is  not  a  subject  for  you 
or — or  any  one"  (with  a  reproachful  glance  at  her  son); 
"only  as  the  consecjuences  of  this  unhappy  boy's  errors 
always  fall  on  me,  I  am  obliged  to  hear  of  them." 

Poor  Kate!  every  one  had  given  her  a  rap;  and  it 
was  her  own  fault.  She  /cU  scarlet  down  to  the  tips 
of  her  fingers,  and  longed  to  run  away  and  hide  herself 
in  the  lumber-closet  at  the  other  end  of  the  house.  To 
submit  to  be  snubbed,  however,  by  that  odious  lawyer, 
and  retreat  from  her  own  dining-room  at  his  command, 
would  be  too  humiHating.  Instinctively  the  young  lady 
decided  that  between  her  and  Bernard  Clive  must  be 
war  to  the  knife;  and  while  still  horribly,  painfully  crim^ 
son  in  every  visible  inch  of  her  fair  skin,  she  answered, 
with  a  brave  attempt  at  sang-froid  : 

"You  spoke  of  money,  mamma.     Please  don't  cry  in 


42 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE  W. 


that  way.  Is  Dick  in  debt  again  ?  Perhaps  it  is  not 
so  bad  as  it  has  been  made  appear  to  you.  Things  often 
look  worse  at  first. — Don't  vex  mamma,  Dick,  dear. 
Wait  til]  we  can  talk  it  over  quietly.  Don't  you  see  how 
upset  she  is?  When  we  are  by  ourselves"  (and  Kate 
shot  a  Parthian  glance  at  the  intruder)  "you  can  explain 
about  it." 

"Miss  Bellew  appears  to  be  under  the  belief  that  things 
grow  smaller  by  being  kept,"  said  Clive,  with  calm 
amusement — "a  young  lady's  doctrine,  comfortable,  but 
— not  reducible  to  fact,  as  she  will  perhaps  find  when  she 
has  acquired  a  few  more  years'  experience.  In  the 
meantime"  (looking  at  his  watch),  "as  I  have  unfortu- 
nately an  appointment  at  one,  shall  we  go  on  with  these 
papers,  Lady  Margaret  ?  You  are  sure  it  does  not  tire 
you?" 

"  Oh,  no ;  it  is  so  good  of  you  to  interest  yourself — 
so  wonderfully  good  and  kind!"  cried  Lady  Margaret, 
rubbing  her  nose  vigorously,  and  smiling  gratefully  on 
her  visitor.  "  I  am  sure  I  don't  know  what  I  should  do 
without  you  to-day. — Who  is  that  ?  " 

"Miss  Bellew's  'orse!"  said  Buttons,  opening  the 
door,  and  putting  in  a  round  bullet-head,  all  agog  with 
curiosity.  Of  course  the  basement  story  were  fully  ac- 
quainted with  the  fact  of  conclave,  tears,  and  troubles, 
long  ago.  "Waitin'  at  the  door,  please,  m'm ;  and 
please,  m'm,  is  Myers  to  go  'isself,  or  lengthen  the 
stirrupses  for  Mister  Dick  ?" 

"Of  course  there  is  no  hope  of  you,"  said  Kate, 
turning  sorrowfully  to  Dick.  "  Oh,  why  is  it  so  fine  ? 
Uncle  Lovegoats  will  be  sure  to  be  out,  or  something, 
and  know  if  I  stay  at  home.  I  hate  going  now;  and, 
oh!     I  had  so  looked  forward  to  having  you." 

"  I  really  think  we  could  go  over  these  without  you, 
Dick,  if  you  want  to  ride  with  your  sister,"  Clive  ob- 
served, with  a  gracious  affability  for  which  Kate  could 
have  boxed  his  ears.  "  It  is  a  pity  she  should  be  dis- 
appointed and  I  think  I  can  understand  these  perfectly 
by  myself,  and  can  perhaps  explain  them  better  to  your 
mother." 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV.  43 

"Of  course,  that  is  out  of  the  question,"  began  Kate, 
magnanimously,  anxious  to  cut  off  her  nose  to  spite  her 
face;  but  Dick  interrupted  her. 

"  Can  you  really,  old  fellow  ?  Then  I'll  take  myself 
off  for  an  hour.  It  is  impossible  to  do  business  quietly 
when  people  make  such  a  fuss.  My  head  is  spinning 
like  a  mill-wheel  as  it  is." 

"  I  am  sure,  my  dear  boy — "  began  Lady  Margaret, 
pleadingly;  but  Dick  was  already  out  of  the  room,  and 
in  another  five  minutes  he  and  Kate  were  slowly  trotting 
in  the  direction  of  the  Park. 

They  did  not  speak  for  some  minutes.  Kate's  happy 
spirits  were  quite  quenched  by  the  scene  in  the  dining- 
room  ;  and  Dick  always  waited  to  be  amused,  even  when 
he  was  in  a  good  temper,  which  was  not  the  case  at  pres- 
ent. The  sun  was  shining  brightly,  and  the  Bayswater 
Road  was  crowded  with  cabs,  carriages,  omnibuses,  and 
people  of  all  genders,  ages  and  conditions,  crossing  and 
recrossing  in  every  direction.  Just  at  the  turning  from 
the  Edgeware  road,  a  hansom  and  an  omnibus  almost 
came  into  collision  ;  and  the  former,  swerving  out  of  the 
way,  made  Kate's  horse  rear,  and  splashed  her  habit  with 
mud.  Dick  uttered  an  oath,  not  cjuite  inaudibly.  It 
was  the  first  time  he  had  opened  his  lips ;  and  as  they 
turned  into  the  Park  under  the  Marble  Arch,  Kate  spoke 
what  had  been  on  her  mind  since  they  left  the  house. 

"  Now,  Dick,  what  is  the  matter — what  has  put  you 
out  so  much,  and  upset  mamma  ?     Tell  me." 

"  Put  me  out !  I  don't  know  what  you  mean.  My 
mother  may  be  put  out,  if  you  like.     1  am  not." 

The  tone  was  a  sufficient  barometer.  It  pointed  full 
to  "stormy;"  and  Kate,  like  an  astute  mariner  (Ah,  me! 
how  weatherwise  women  at  home  get  in  such  matters), 
took  in  sail  and  tacked  to  leeward  on  the  instant. 

"  Well,  don't  be  vexed  with  me,  Dick,  darling.  I  diiln't 
mean  to  tease  you.  It's  so  jolly  being  out  together 
again,  isn't  it?  Just  look  how  the  trees  are  budding, 
and  those  dear  little  crocuses  poking  up  their  wee  heads 
out  of  the  mould.  I  suppose  it  is  quite  spring-like  in 
the  country." 


44 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 


"H'ni,  no.  Don't  think  so.  Not  that  I've  seen  mucu 
of  it.  Those  duns  have  taken  good  care  I  shouldn't, 
and  be  hanged"  to  them  !  " 

"  Dick,  dear,  don't  use  bad  language,  it  isn't  pretty. 
And  what  business  have  you  to  be  dunned  ?  Why  don't 
you  live  within  your  income,  sir  ? — and  how  much  is  it 
for  this  time  ?  " 

Kate  thought  she  had  put  the  question  now  very  lightly 
and  pleasantly ;  and  she  stretched  out  her  hand  to  give 
a  pleasant  little  pat  to  the  neck  of  Dick's  steed  at  the 
same  time.  Still  the  young  man's  brow  lowered  omi- 
nously, and  his  voice  was  peevish,  if  not  angry. 

"How  much!  I'm  sure  I  don't  know.  Clive  has  been 
seeing  about  it,  and  adding  the  bills  together.  I  don't 
know  how  they  mount  up.  They  will  do  it ;  and  as  to 
living  within  one's  income — if  you  were  not  a  baby,  you'd 
know  it  was  a  simple  impossibility.  Just  try  it  for  your- 
self some  day,  that's  all." 

"But,  Dick,  dear,  two  hundred  and  twenty  pounds 
a—" 

"Two  hundred  and  twenty  fiddlesticks!  Why,  it's  a 
mere  flea-bite;  just  enough  for  men  to  expect  you  to  live 
like  a  gentleman  instead  of  a  pauper,  and  not  enough  to 
do  it  upon.  Why,  how  much  do  you  think  wine  alone 
comes  to  ?  " 

"I  suppose  it  depends  on  how  much  you  drink,"  said 
Kate,  doubtfully.  "  Mamma  and  I  get  through  rather 
more  than  two  bottles  a  week  when  we  are  quite  alone." 

"Two  or  three!  But  that  shows  the  absurdity  of 
women  trying  to  regulate  men's  expenses.  Why,  every 
fellow  that  comes  to  supper  with  you  expects  to  drink  a 
bottle  to  himself;  and  not  rubbish,  mind  you ;  no  half- 
crown  sherry  or  gooseberry  champagne  !  A  fellow  would 
be  cut  pretty  sharp  who  tried  on  that  sort  of  game  at  Ox- 
ford; and  then  there  are  cigars,  and  horses,  and — " 

"But  how  do  poor  men  manage,  Dick  ? — poor  clergy- 
men's sons,  who  haven't  got  the  money  for  these  things, 
and  can't  get  it  ?  " 

"  Manage  I     They  don't  manage.     No  one  ever  could." 

"  But  what  do  they  do,  then  ?  " 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE W.  45 

"  Run  into  debt,  or  lick  other  men's  plates,  or  starve. 
Don't  ask  such  absurd  questions,  Kate." 

Barometer  again  falling !  Kate  held  her  peace,  and  looked 
away  to  where  the  Serpentine  was  sparkling  between  the 
leafless  trees  like  a  line  of  silver  light.  There  had  been  a 
gentle  rain  in  the  morning,  which  had  left  the  grass 
dewed  over  by  myriads  of  tiny  diamonds,  and  made  the 
loose  brown  earth  of  the  Ride  smell  fresh  and  sweet  as  a 
newly-plowed  field.  The  sun  was  shining  brightly  on 
all  the  gilding  and  glitter  of  the  Albert  Memorial;  but 
Kate's  eyes  were  dazzled  with  something  besides  sun- 
shine, and  her  heart  was  very  heavy.  If  Dick — poor 
Dick ! — would  not  do  justice  to  himself,  how  could  she 
e.xpect  the  world  to  do  it  for  him  ? 

There  were  plenty  of  girls  crossing  and  recrossing  her, 
chatting  and  laughing  with  their  cavaliers,  as  they  leaned 
over  the  saddle-bow  ;  or  going  at  a  long  sweeping  canter, 
with  curls  and  habit  fluttering  in  the  breeze :  girls  with 
brothers  too,  perhaps,  and  yet  who  looked  so  happy. 
Kate  had  felt  just  as  happy  as  they  an  hour  ago,  and 
now  she  had  to  wink  away  a  furtive  tear,  as  she  put  her 
horse  to  a  canter  also,  antl  scudded  along  with  the  brave 
endeavor  to  shake  off"  a  lump  of  care  lying,  stone-like, 
somewhere  very  near  the  brim  of  her  young  heart. 

For  some  moments  she  and  Dick  swept  along  the  Ride 
like  a  breeze;  and  then,  when  they  were  almost  abreast 
of  the  Powder  Magazine,  her  brother  pulled  up  with  a 
jerk,  and  signed  to  her  to  do  so  likewise.  She  looked  up 
at  him,  fluslied  and  i)anting,  her  big,  brown  eyes  brighter 
than  usual,  her  body  thrown  well  back,  and  her  small 
hands  resting  on  her  knee,  as  the  horse's  mane  almost 
swept  her  breast  in  the  suddenness  of  his  check. 

Some  one,  a  solitary  pedestrian,  wandering  somewhat 
aimlessly  among  the  trees,  stopped  to  look  after  her,  and 
thought  to  himself,  "What  a  glorious  picture  of  youth, 
and  health,  and  innocent  happiness  !" 

"Kittie,"  said  Dick,  abruptly,  "you'll  talk  over  my 
lady,  won't  you  ?  I  can't  really  go  through  another  of 
these  scenes  ;  and  you  can  always  get  your  way,  you 
know.     Eh?  will  you?" 


46  PRE  TTY  MISS  BELLE  W. 

"But  what  about,  dear?" 

"About!  why,  about  the  money,  of  course.  Say  four 
hundred  pounds,  or  even  five  hundred  ;  a  fellow  must 
have  it  if  he's  to  go  back  to  Oxford  at  all,  and  it's  just  as 
well  given  sooner  as  later.  My  mother  puts  me  out  so 
when  she  begins  to  cry,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  that  I 
can't  reason  with  her;  but  if  she'll  pay  it  all  now,  I'll 
make  any  amount  of  promises  to  hold  in  hard  for  the  rest 
of  the  time.     You  tell  her  so — eh  ?  " 

"But  you  have  promised  so  often,  Dick,  dear — and 
then "  (hurriedly,  lest  her  hero  should  be  displeased) 
"mother  may  not  have  it  to  give.  Five  hundred  pounds, 
did  you  say  ?  Dick,  I  am  almost  sure  she  has  not.  She 
was  saying  only  yesterday  that  she  had  run  very  short 
this  quarter." 

"Can't  she  sell  out  something?" 

"  Dick,  I  didn't  mean  to  tell  you,  but  the  lawyer  was 

very  angry  with  her  for  selling  out  last  time   for  you. 

They  said  it  was  not  fair  to  the  other  boys.     You  know 

that  though  everything  was  left  to  her,  it  was  only  for  life, 

.  and—" 

Dick  interrupted  her  by  an  impatient  exclamation,  and 
a  cut  at  his  horse's  flanks,  which  made  the  injured  animal 
jump  and  bound  from  side  to  side  in  a  manner  rather  un- 
pleasant to  Kate,  whose  own  steed  was  spirited  and  easily 
frightened. 

"  What  possessed  my  father  to  make  such  a  will  ?"  he 
cried,  indignantly.  "It  is  a  shameful  injustice.  Just  to 
think  of  a  fellow  of  my  age  utterly  dependent  on  his 
mother — obliged  to  go  to  her  for  every  sixpence,  and 
screwed  and  cramped  and  lectured  like  a  baby !  Kate, 
it's  unbearable ;  can't  you  see  it  is  ?  How  am  I  ever  to 
settle  in  life,  or  anything,  at  this  rate  ?  I  don't  believe 
any  one  was  ever  so  persistently  ill-treated  and  sat  upon 
in  all  this  life." 

Dick's  blue  eyes  grew  quite  moist  at  the  picture  of  his 
own  wrongs,  while  Kate's  throat  swelled  sympathetically. 
Verily  and  indeed,  love  is  blind.  This  young  lady,  so 
keen  for  the  weaknesses  and  absurdities  of  the  world  in 
general,  would  have  given  anything  for  a  cool  thousand 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW, 


47 


or  so,  to  indulge  her  darling  in  this.  Up  in  her  mind 
rose  a  sudden  remembrance  of  a  certain  eight  hundred 
pounds  left  to  her  by  an  aunt  some  years  back,  and  which 
would  be  at  her  own  disposal  when  she  was  twenty-one 
— in  two  years  time. 

Dick  wondered,  half  angrily,  why  the  smiles  and  color 
rushed  so  brightly  to  her  face,  till  she  turned  to  him,  her 
eyes  shining  gladly. 

"Why,  Dick,  there  is  Aunt  Delia's  money.  That 
would  more  than  set  you  up — the  money  she  left  me,  you 
know." 

"You  silly  child  !  and  do  you  think  I'd  rob  you?  Be- 
sides, it  isn't  yours  to  give — till  you're  of  age." 

"I  know  that;  but,  Dick,  people  lend  money  on 
security  ;  and  that  would  be  security,  wouldn't  it  ?  Now 
please  don't  laugh  at  me.     I'm  sure  it  would  be." 

"  My  dearest  Kittie,  you're  a  good  little  girl — the  best 
lot  in  the  family ;  but  even  if  any  one  were  willing  to  lend 
me  money  on  such  security,  I  couldn't  agree;  all  the 
family  would  make  such  a  howl,  and  say  I  was  swindling 
you." 

"That  is  nonsense,  dear.  As  if  you  wouldn't  give  me 
anything  you  have  if  I  wanted  it !  liesides,  no  one  need 
ever  know.  I  will  write  whatever  you  like,  and  then 
when  I  am  twenty-one — " 

"  It  wouldn't  be  legal,  Kittie.  Not  a  Jew  of  the  lot 
would  look  at  your  signature." 

"  Don't  go  to  Jews,  then.  Ask  your  friends.  Some  of 
them  would  surely  give  you  their  signature,  and  trust  to 
mine  for  repayment." 

"  Humph  !  it's  all  very  well  as  far  as  you  are  concerned, 
little  woman ;  but  suppose  you  were  to  marry,  what 
would  your  husband  say  ?" 

"  My  husband  shall  say  that  everything  I  do  is  right, 
because  I  do  it,  or  I  will  have  none  of  him;  so  there!" 

"Well,  I  don't  like  the  idea,  though  of  course  I  should 
pay  it  you  all  back,  with  interest.  I  should  only  accept 
it  as  a  loan"  (this  very  grandly);  "but  if  nothing  else 
turns  up,  I  don't  know  what  to  do.     I'll  ask  Clive." 

"Oh,  Dick,  don't!     Why  him?" 


48  PRE  TTY  MISS  BELLE  I V. 

"My  dear  Kittie,  what  on  earth  makes  you  disHke 
CHve  ?  He's  the  best  fellow  living,  and  I'm  sure  1  don't 
know  what  I  should  do  without  him,  especially  now.  1 
give  you  my  word,  Kate,  I'm  half  mad  with  worry  and 
trouble." 

"Worse  than  the  money?"  asked  Kate,  aghast. 

"A  million  times  worse." 

"  Oh,  Dick,  then  that  is  what  Mr.  Clive  spoke  of  when 
he  was  so  rude  to  me,"  and  Kate  blushed  again  with 
the  vivid  remembrance.  "I  don't  want  to  ask  what  it  is, 
but—" 

"Bother!  That?  Why,  that's  nothing,  only  my 
mother  would  worry  to  know  where  the  money  had  gone, 
and  like  a  fool  I  let  her  get  sight  of  a  bill;  but  that's 
nothing  to  you  Kate ;  and  for  goodness'  sake,  don't  go 
telling  fellows  that  I  confide  all  my  private  affairs  to  you. 
It  makes  one  look  such  a  consummate  ass." 

"I  thought  you  did,"  said  Kate,  sorrowfully.  "I  tell 
you  everything,  and  I  fancied  you  did  the  same  with  me." 

"And  so  I  do,  my  dear  child — everything  that  would 
interest  you ;  but  of  course  there  are  lots  of  things  which 
a  man  doesn't  discuss  with  his  women-folk.  If  you  were 
not  such  an  innocent  little  goose,  you  wouldn't  say  such 
things.  No,  no — tliis  is  something  much  worse.  I  de- 
clare sometimes  I  wish  she  were  at  the  bottom  of  the 
sea ;  and  yet  when  I  see  her,  she's  so  pretty  and  coaxing, 
I  get  more  entangled  than  ever." 

'^She/"  said  Kate,  reddening  again,  and  more  deeply 
still,  as  she  edged  a  little  away,  and  her  voice  took  an 
altered  tone.     "Who  are  you  speaking  of?" 

[N.  B. — Grammar  is  not  always  the  strong  point  of  our 
well-educated  young  Englishwomen.] 

"  No  one  you  need  prim  up  your  mouth  at,  my  child. 
A  girl  as  respectable,  as  far  as  character  goes,  as  yourself, 
every  whit ;  but  who  has  unfortunately  taken  a  fancy  to 
your  humble  servant." 

"I  don't  understand  you,  Dick,"  said  Kate,  still  speak- 
ing very  coldly.  For  the  first  time  her  brother's  tone 
grated  on  the  young  lady's  ear.  "  How  do  you  know 
she  Ukes  you  ?  " 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW.  49 

"She  says  so,  Kittie." 

"Then  you  must  have  told  her  you  hked  her  first. 
Women  never  take  the  initiative  in  these  things." 

"Perhaps  I  did.  When  girls  are  bewitchingly  pretty, 
men  are  apt  to  make  fools  of  themselves  about  them." 

"But  why  fools?  Dick"  (a  little  impatiently),  "do 
speak  plainly.  Do  you  mean  that  you  are  engaged,  or 
— don't  go  on  in  that  way." 

"Can  you  keep  a  secret,  Kittie?" 

"  Of  course  I  can,  if  it  will  help  you." 

"  Swear !  " 

"Nonsense,  Dick!     Isn't  my  word  enough?" 

"Well,  then,  the  fact  is,  I've  gone  and  tumbled  into  an 
offer  of  marriage ;  and  goodness  only  knows  if  I  shan't 
be  in  for  a  breach  of  promise  case  when  I  try  to  back 
out." 

"Back  out!"  cried  Kate,  pale  with  bewilderment. 
"Break  your  word,  do  you  mean  ?  but  how — why  should 
you?" 

"Why!  Because  I  couldn't  marry  her,  even  if  I 
wished  it,  which  I'm  not  quite  such  a  fool  as  to  do;  not 
when  I'm  away  from  her,  at  any  rate.  Kate,  don't  stare 
at  me  in  that  codfish  fashion.  It  would  be  utter  ruin  and 
annihilation  to  a  man  far  beneath  me.  Do  you  know 
what  the  devil  she  is  ?  " 

"  Tell  me,"  said  Kate,  paler  still ;  but  Dick  had  no 
time.  They  were  just  wheeling  round  the  corner  of  the 
Powder  Magazine;  and  coming  up  to  meet  them  from 
the  ride  along  the  north  side  of  the  Serpentine  was  a 
stout,  red-faced  old  gentleman,  who  reined  in  the  well- 
built  cob  on  which  he  was  mounted  and  greeted  Dick 
with  an  explosive  exclamation  of  surprise  and  wrath. 

It  was  Lord  Lovegoats  ! 


CHAPTER  VI. 

A   PROUD   WOMAN. 

WHEN  Bernard  Clive  asked  that  question  of  the 
widowed  lodger  at  Mrs.  Spinks's,  which  we  have 
recorded  in  the  last  chapter  but  one,  the  expression  on 
his  face  denoted  a  want  of  admiration  for  the  charms  of 
No.  2,  Alma  Terrace,  which  would  assuredly  have  offended 
the  proprietress  of  that  dwelling,  and  which  even  brought 
a  glow  of  color  into  the  pale  face  of  the  woman  he  was 
addressing.  "What!  leave  us  for  this  hole!"  said  the 
elevated  lines  on  the  lawyer's  forehead ;  and  Mrs.  Grey, 
taking  her  hands  out  of  his  grasp,  answered  very  quietly  : 

"  I  left  Woodleigh  because  circumstances  gave  me  no 
alternative,  Mr.  Clive;  and  I  came  here,  first,  because  the 
poverty  of  the  place  suited  my  means ;  and  next,  because 
I  wished  to  be  out  of  reach  of  acquaintances  and  society 
which  I  had  no  longer  the  power  or  desire  to  keep  up." 

She  spoke  with  great  dignity.  Tall  and  strong  as  was 
Bernard  Clive,  this  large,  fair  woman,  with  the  regal 
figure  and  noble  brow,  was  an  equal  match  for  him — a 
iir  better  match  than  poor  little  impulsive  Kate  Bellew. 

"I  have  offended  you,"  he  said,  quickly.  "Forgive 
ne,  and  tell  me  how — by  coming  here,  or  by  what  I 
said?" 

"  By  neither ;  nor  have  you  offended  me.  I  never  take 
oflfense  where  it  is  not  meant ;  and  I  am  sure  you  would 
not  mean  it." 

"Thank  you.     You  do  me  justice  in  that." 

"  But  I  should  like  to  know  how  you  found  me  out." 

50 


PRE  TTY  MISS  BELLE  VV.  5 1 

"In  the  simplest  manner  possible.  I  saw  you  come 
out  of  the  governess's  agency,  in  Harley  Street,  and — " 

"  It  ivas  you  then  !  " 

"  On  the  other  side  of  the  way  ?  Yes,  and  you  eluded 
me  very  skillfully,  but  I  went — " 

"Forgive  my  interrupting  you  again,  Mr.  Clive,  but, 
seeing  that  I  eluded  you — as  you  say — was  it  right  to 
follow  me  and  find  out  what  you  saw  I  w^ished  to  keep 
secret  ?  " 

Again  he  felt  the  rebuke,  mildly  as  it  was  given.  This 
quiet,  graceful  woman,  with  the  grand  blue  eyes  and 
gentle  voice,  had  of  a  certainty  the  art  of  making  herself 
minded. 

"  I  do  not  know  it  was  right,"  he  answered,  flushing; 
"but  you  must  allow  that  it  was  as  natural  to  follow  and 
seek  out  a  friend  for  whom  one  cares  very  much  and 
truly,  as  it  seemed  unnatural  for  that  friend  to  first  desert 
a  home  where  all  valued,  and  then  avoid  a  friend  who 
had  never  offended  her." 

He  meant  to  rebuke  this  time;  but  she  hardly  seemed 
to  heed,  and  only  asked : 

"  Then  they  gave  you  my  address  at  the  institution  ? 
Yet  how  could  they  when — " 

"  When  they  only  knew  where  your  letters  were  to  be 
addressed  ?  Mrs.  Grey,  it  is  as  plain  that  you  are  not  a 
lawyer  as  that  I  am.  Do  you  think  that  was  not  clue 
enough  ?  After  finding  out  the  pastrycook  mentioned, 
to  find  out  the  hours  at  which  A.  Z.  usually  called  for  her 
letters  was  simple  enough,  and  merely  entailed  a  few  fibs 
and  a  mild  attack  of  indigestion." 

She  smiled — very  little,  but  it  was  for  the  first  time,  and 
he  was  glad  to  see  it — as  she  asked  : 

"  How  ?  " 

"  By  the  amount  of  leathery  buns  and  rancid  pastry 
which  had  to  be  consumed  while  extracting  the  desired 
information.     It  is  fortunate  I  have  a  good  constitution." 

"  I  could  almost  wish  you  had  not,  Bernard,"  she  said, 
smiling  still,  though  sadly.  "  Do  not  go  on.  You  have 
played  the  detective,  and  succeeded — to  what  end  ?  " 

"  To  this,  that  never  having  given  you  cause  to  distrust 


c  2  PRE  TTY  MISS  BELLE  IV. 

ffie^^ — and  he  laid  emphasis  on  the  pronoun — "I  can  ask 
you  to  trust  me  now,  and  allow  me  to  assist  you  as  a  friend 
may.  I  am  a  lazy  fellow,  Mrs.  Grey;  laziness  agrees 
with  me;  but  I  can  be  active  sometimes  if  I  try  very  hard. 
Witness  my  exertions  in  the  last  twenty-four  hours!" 

"  Have  you  told  them — at  Woodleigh — about  finding 
me  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  No,"  he  said,  gravely ;  "  I  may  have  a  thirst  for  in- 
formation on  my  own  account,  but  I  shouldn't  dream  of 
sharing  it  without  your  permission.  When  I  was  a  little 
boy  I  always  went  into  a  corner  and  ate  my  cake  all  by 
my  own  self.  I  didn't  call  all  the  others  round  and  divide 
it  among  them,  like  good  little  Tommy  in  the  story-book." 

The  grave,  fair  face  looked  up  at  him,  laughing  now. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  I  know  you  !  " 

"Do  you  ?     I  almost  feared  you  did  not." 

"  I  know  you  guessed  the  reason  of  my  leaving  Wood- 
leigh so  abruptly." 

"  I  think  I  did.     Shall  I  tell  you  my  guess  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  said,  decisively. 

"  As  you  like.  Is  that  reason — supposing  that  I  guess 
it — impossible  to  get  over  ?  " 

"Quite  impossible.  Bernard,  do  not  speak  of  it  any 
more.  Believe  me,  this — "  and  she  laid  her  hand  with 
a  simple  but  touching  gesture  on  the  streamers  of  her 
widow's-cap,  which  had  fallen  on  her  bosom — "is  not  an 
empty  mockery  with  me." 

"Is  it  that  you  despise  the  new  love  or — " 

"  Despise  !  Oh,  no,"  she  interrupted,  "but  I  pity  it  be- 
cause it  is  given  to  one  who  has  no  capacity  for  loving 
left." 

"Then  you  mean  that  nothing  would  induce  you  to 
marry  again  ?  " 

"That  is  what  I  mean — yes." 

"And  you  are  so  sure  of  this  that  you  would  even  fly 
from  the  offer  of  love,  however  hearty  and  reverent  ?  " 

"Yes,"  she  said,  steadily,  "and  farther  than  I  have 
done  if  necessary." 

"  Mrs.  Grey,"  said  Clive,  as  steadily  and  with  a  keen 
quick  glance,  "if  you  had  been  as  sure  as  you  think,  you 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 


SI 


would  have  stayed  still.  Flight  is  a  confession  of  weak- 
ness, not  strength." 

He  had  meant  to  confound  her,  but  he  was  mistaken. 
She  met  his  glance  with  the  patient  smile  of  sad  experi- 
ence, and  answered  : 

"In  most  cases — yes.     Not  in  this." 

"Do  you  know,"  he  said,  bending  forward  and  speak- 
ing with  a  touching  appealingness,  very  difterent  to  his 
usual  half-languid,  half-sarcastic  manner,  "the  sort  of 
love  you  are  rejecting  ? — how  passionate  it  is,  how  hum- 
ble, and  how  little  would  content  it? — even  friendship — 
friendship  and  a  little  of  that  kindness  which  you  know 
so  well  how  to  show." 

The  sad  blue  eyes  filled  suddenly,  and  she  put  out  her 
hand  to  stoj)  him. 

"  Pray,  pray  be  silent,  Bernard.  You  do  no  good,  and 
are  only  paining  me  cruelly." 

"  Do  you  think  of  the  cruel  pain  you  have  given,  and 
not  to  one  only  ?  " 

"I  do — indeed  I  do;  but  it  is  unavoidable.  Should  I 
have  acted  as  I  have  done,  if  I  had  not.?" 

He  was  silent. 

"It  would  have  broken  my  heart,  if  that  had  not  been 
done  long' ago,"  she  went  on,  sorrowfully. 

Still  he  did  not  answer,  and  his  eyes  were  fixed  on  the 
ground. 

"  Bernard,"  she  said,  in  her  former  tone  of  grave, 
kindly  dignity,  "let  us  leave  this  subject  now  and  forever. 
I  have  gone  through  much  trouble,  and  am  preparing  to 
go  through  more.  I  have  left  a  happy  and  a  peaceful  rest- 
ing-i)lace,  and  contented  myself  with  this" — looking 
round  the  cheerless  little  room — "to  escape  from  that  one 
thing.  Do  not  bring  it  on  me  again.  Remember,  you 
have  come  to  me  this  time  against  my  will.  If  you  would 
come  again  with  it,  it  must  be  on  my  own  terms,  and 
with  the  strict 'understanding  that  unless  they  are  com- 
plied with  our  intercourse  must  be  brought  to  an  end." 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  decision  of  the  tone.  Ber- 
nard Clive,  experienced  in  women  and  their  ways  as  a 
lawyer  and  a  man  of  the  world  can  hardly  fail  to  be,  felt 


54 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 


that  this  one  was  in  earnest,  and  that  if  he  would  retain 
her  friendship  and  aid  her  by  his,  it  must  be  by  comply- 
ing with  the  rules  she  had  laid  down.  In  two  moments' 
thought  he  had  weighed  \\\&  pros  and  cons  :  in  two  more 
he  had  decided  for  the  former. 

"  If  that  is  really  your  wish  I  must  obey  it ;  but  if  I  do, 
you  will  on  your  side  promise  to  treat  and  trust  me  as  a 
real  friend,  a  brother  if  you  will  ?  " 

"  A  friend,  most  certainly.  I  am  afraid  I  do  not  hold 
with  self-made  brothers  for  women  in  my  position.  You 
don't  mind  my  saying  so  ?" 

"On  the  contrary,  I  respect  you  for  it.  You  are  more 
sensible  than  I  ;  though  you  needn't  be  afraid.  Having 
given  my  word  I  shall  keep  it,  both  in  the  letter  and  spir- 
it.    Is  the  bargain  made  ?  " 

For  all  reply  she  gave  him  her  hand — not  a  very  small 
one,  but  purely  white  and  perfectly  shaped  as  though  cut 
out  of  alabaster  by  the  hand  of  a  Phidias.  He  held 
it  in  his  a  moment,  but  only  a  moment.  He  had  sense 
enough  to  have  learned  her  character  by  heart ;  and  the 
•friendly  clasp  seemed  to  have  given  her  comfort,  for 
glancing  with  a  smile  at  the  long-neglected  tea-things,  she 
said : 

"And  now  let  me  ring  for  some  hot  tea  for  you.  This 
must  have  all  got  cold  while  we  have  been  talking." 

"  Have  you  not  had  your  own  ?  " 

"  No,  I  did  not  care  for  it  then.     I  do  now." 

"Then  by  all  means  let  us  have  it.  It  will  seem  home- 
like to  see  you  pouring  out  tea  again." 

And  Mrs.  Spinks,  after  having  very  unwillingly  an- 
swered the  bell,  replenished  the  tea-pot,  and  left  the  room 
with  an  indignant  bounce. 

Another  half-hour  of  quiet,  rather  sad  conversation, 
questions  and  answers  on  both  sides ;  and  Clive  rose  to 
go,  incited  to  do  so  by  his  hostess  looking  at  her  watch, 
and  saying,  with  a  frank  simplicity  whicli  disarmed  of- 
fense : 

"Bernard,  I  must  turn  you  out.  The  good  people 
here  go  to  bed  very  early,  and  as  I  am  not  in  the  habit 
of  receiving  visitors,  we  must  not  shock  their  propriety." 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 


55 


"You  are  the  most  discreet  matron  I  ever  saw,"  he 
said,  smihng  as  he  got  up,  and  then  wondered  to  see  the 
rush  of  violent,  painful  crimson  which  covered  her  face; 
"  and  when  may  I  see  you  again  ?  " 

"Any  day  next  week." 

"This  is  only  Wednesday!  Well" — with  a  shrug  of 
his  shoulders — "if  sooner  may  not  be,  I  will  call  on  Sun- 
day." 

"Sunday  afternoon  then;  I  go  to  church  morning  and 
evening." 

His  eyes  twinkled  as  he  saw  that  she  would  not  have 
him  in  the  evenings;  but  he  only  said: 

"And  you  are  bent  on  carrying  out  your  resolutions? 
How  I  wish  1  could  dissuade  you  !  Fancy  you  compan- 
ion to  some  vicious  old  woman  ! " 

"  Old  women  are  not  necessarily  vicious ;  and  even  if 
my  one  were,  I  might  do  her  some  good.  Viciousness 
sometimes  comes  from  unsoftened  trouble ;  but  troubles 
sympathized  with  must  soften  by  degrees.  Yes,  I  am 
quite  resolved,  Bernard ;  and  remember,  you  have  prom- 
ised to  let  me  know  if  you  hear  of  anything.  Do  not 
mind  if  it  sounds  humble.     I  have  no  pride  of  that  sort." 

"I  promise;"  and  then  he  took  her  hand  again  and 
went  away,  nearly  tumbling  over  Mrs.  Spinks,  who 
happc7icd  to  be  brushing  some  crumbs  oft"  the  oilcloth 
just  outside  the  parlor  door.  Mrs.  Grey  did  not  cry 
again  when  she  was  left  alone.  She  was  not  a  woman 
given  to  crying  in  general.  Deep  grief  seldom  fiiids 
vent  in  lamentations,  and  Mrs.  Grey  had  knowMi  grief 
heavier  than  most  women.  You  could  not  look  at  her, 
and  her  face  was  as  calm  and  unrultied  as  that  of  a 
marble  statue — you  could  not  see  her  pass,  and  her  step 
was  firmer  and  more  upright  than  many  girls' — without 
feeling,  there  goes  one  who  has  in  very  truth  walked 
barefoot  over  the  red-hot  plowshares  of  pain,  and  borne 
away  the  wounds  deep  scored  into  her  woman's  flesh. 
She  never  spoke  of  her  chief  troubles.  They  yet  bled 
too  freshly  to  bear  uncovering  even  to  a  kindly  eye;  and 
had  it  been  otherwise,  hers  was  not  a  nature  which  could 
find  solace  in  speech ;  but  those  that  knew  her  intimately 


56  PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 

(they  were  not  more  than  two  or  three)  knew  that 
simultaneously  with  the  loss  of  her  husband  had  come 
other  trials,  greater  almost  in  one  sense :  trials  which 
had  driven  her  from  home  and  friends,  and  obliged  her 
to  struggle,  poor  and  unaided,  with  a  churlish  world. 
Not  as  churlish  perhaps  to  her  as  to  others.  There  are 
people  who  meet  courtesy  and  kindness  wherever  they 
go,  without  ever  appearing  to  claim  it,  or  seeming  aware 
that  they  are  treated  other  than  the  rest  of  the  world. 
Mrs.  Grey  was  one  of  them.  There  was  something  in 
the  unruffled  dignity  of  her  look  and  manner  which 
inspired  respect — something  in  the  beautiful  womanliness 
of  her  face  and  appearance  which  won  her  love  and 
confidence;  and  the  world  gave  her  both.  A  noble 
woman  in  many  things,  with  a  large,  sweet  nature, 
wonderfully  guileless  and  placid;  with  a  wide  benevo- 
lence and  an  unflurried  gentleness  and  gravity,  unspeak- 
ably refreshing  to  a  tired  mind,  or  an  overworked  iDody. 
Not  a  faultless  woman  by  any  means — else  not  womanly 
— but  one  who  had  marred  her  life  by  a  great,  grave 
error,  of  which  even  now  she  was  hardly  conscious, 
so  rooted  was  it  in  the  nature  to  which  she  was  born. 
Pride ! 

There  are  different  sorts  of  pride,  some  common  and 
easily  distinguishable,  some  uncommon  and  very  hard  to 
find  out.  Mrs.  Grey's  was  of  the  latter  sort;  and  was 
rather  a  close  mantle  of  reserve  which  folded  round  her 
whole  being ;  and  at  the  first  breath  of  serious  wrong  in 
those  she  loved  bore  her  away,  bleeding  inwardly,  but 
sternly  and  impenetrably  silent,  out  of  their  reach  even 
for  penitence  and  atonement  altogether  and  forever.  Do 
not  imagine  that  she  was  a  touchy  woman,  or  quick  to 
offense.  She  was  not.  Anger,  indeed,  in  the  ordinary 
sense  of  the  word,  was  not  in  her  nature,  and  when  she 
witnessed  it  in  another  she  had  a  way  of  opening  her 
calm  blue  eyes  with  a  look  of  mild  surprise  and  distaste 
Avhich  added  fuel  to  flame  with  a  person  of  fiery  disposi- 
tion. She  was  slow  in  many  things,  especially  slow  to 
suspicion  of  evil  in  those  about  her;  but  once  her  mind 
had  been  driven  to  accept  that  suspicion,  it  was  equally 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV.  27 

slow  to  relinquish  it,  and  still  more  so  to  believe  that 
others  could  think  evil  of  her.  Nay,  when  that  other 
was  one  who  knew  her,  whom  she  loved,  or  in  whom  she 
confided,  the  cruelty  and  injustice  smote  on  that  silent 
heart  of  hers  a  blow  for  which  there  was  no  healing.  She 
could  not  defend  herself;  she  was  too  proud.  She  could 
not  even  stoop  to  seek  an  explanation ;  and  so  there  was 
nothing  for  her  but  to  put  the  sinner  away  and  go  from 
him,  broken-hearted,  perhaps,  but  unrebuking  and  unex- 
cusing,  saying:  "I  forgive  you,"  and  finding,  as  Roche- 
foucauld says,  a  charm  in  that  word  to  condone  a  lifelong 
horror  and  a  shuddering  avoidance. 

This  was  a  fault,  and  no  light  one;  a  fault  which  had 
been  punished  with  excess  of  bitterness,  and  which  was 
yet  quite  incurable;  for  how  prescribe  for  a  disease  un- 
less you  be  aware  of  it  ?  And  Mrs.  Grey,  while  repent- 
ing herself  sorrowfully  of  many  a  lighter  sin,  was  in  utter 
and  entire  ignorance  of  this. 

Mrs.  Grey — having  decided,  of  her  own  gentle  discre- 
tion, that  a  large  latitude  must  be  made  for  the  ignorance 
of  social  customs  natural  to  the  lower  orders,  and  hav- 
ing, to  avoid  the  very  faintest  breath  of  scandal,  dis- 
missed her  old  friend  at  the  primitively  early  hour  of 
half-past  eight — never  dreamed  that  the  mischief  she  had 
aftably  gone  out  of  her  way  to  avoid  was  already  done; 
and  did  not  even  awake  to  the  consciousness  that  some- 
thing was  amiss  with  her  landlady,  till  after  two  days* 
persistent  surliness  and  inattention.  Then,  indeed,  with 
a  kindly  desire  to  find  some  excuse  for  the  misconduct, 
she,  instead  of  rebuking,  cast  about  in  her  mind  for  a 
reason  for  it,  and  incjuired  whether  Mr.  Spinks  was  out  of 
work,  or  whether  they  had  received  any  bad  news  of  the 
daughter  who  was  in  service. 

"Out  o' work,  m'm?"  said  the  landlady,  irately,  and 
resenting  the  blandly-spoken  words;  "no,  but  it's  double 
work  as  he'll  be  'avin'  to  do  if  I've  to  give  up  lettin'  these 
rooms,  as  I  espect  I'll  be  druv  to  if  things  don't  halter 
one  o'  these  days.  No,  m'm,  I  ain't  'ad  no  bad  news  o' 
my  gurrl,  nor  am  like  to  without  .she  goes  to  the  bad,  as 
is  a  wonder  more  gurrls  doesn't,  with  their  missuses 
a-settin'  of  'cm  sich  examples." 


58  PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 

"Mrs.  Spinks,"  said  the  widow,  mildly  (she  was  getting 
tired),  "I  am  sorry  your  daughter's  mistress  is  not  a  nice 
person.  You  should  try  and  find  the  girl  another.  Shut 
the  door  behind  you  when  you  go  out,  if  you  please;  you 
left  it  open  last  time." 

And  Mrs.  Spinks  went  out,  and  shut  the  door,  actually 
silenced ;  and  joined  Spinks,  who  sat  mildly  smoking  and 
remonstrating  in  the  chimney-corner. 

"You  mark  my  word  for  it,  'e'll  be  comin'  to-night 
agin,"  said  Mrs.  Spinks,  energetically. 

But  night  came  on,  and  another  night  still,  and  Bernard 
Clive  not  making  his  appearance,  the  good  woman  began 
to  feel  an  aggrieved  sense  of  disappointment  creeping 
over  her,  and  to  think  that  it  might  be  possible,  'despite 
all  that  had  passed,  for  her  lodger  to  be  as  uninterestingly 
respectable  and  well-conducted  as  any  of  the  other  resi- 
dents in  Alma  Terrace,  S.  W. 

Judge,  then,  of  her  annoyance  when,  just  before  retiring 
to  rest  on  Saturday  night,  Mrs.  Grey  said  in  her  softest 
and  quietest  tones : 

"  By  the  way,  Mrs.  Spinks,  my  week  is  up  to-day ;  so 
I  may  as  well  pay  you,  and  give  you  a  week's  warning. 
1  shall  not  require  the  rooms  after  next  Tuesday  or  Wed- 
nesday." 

"Ma'am!"  stammered  Mrs.  Spinks,  drawing  back  in 
almost  ludicrous  dismay,  and  looking  at  the  silver  in  that 
smooth,  white  palm  as  if  it  were  a  nest  of  vipers  to  sting. 
"You — you  don't  mean  as  you're  a-thinkin'  on  leaving, 
m'm  ?  " 

"  Next  week.  Yes,  Mrs.  Spinks.  Will  you  count  the 
money,  and  receipt  it,  if  you  please." 

There  was  no  mistaking  that  tone.  Mrs.  Spinks  took 
the  money,  and  began  to  fumble  with  it  nervously. 

"I'm  sure,  m'm,  this  is  most  unlooked.  I  'ope  as  you 
'aven't  no  complaint  to  make,  which  if  it's  anythink  I  can 
remedy — an'  that  chimney  do  smoke,  I  know — I'm  sure 
me  and  Spinks — " 

"Thank  you,  Mrs.  Spinks.  I  have  no  complaint  to 
make.  If  I  have  not  been  quite  as  comfortable  as  I  could 
wish,  it  is  doubtless  because  you  have  not  been  ace  .is- 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 


59 


tomed  to  lady-lodgers.  Is  that  the  receipt  ?  Thank  you. 
Good  night." 

And  the  lady  rose  and  retired,  leaving  Mrs.  Spinks 
ready  to  curse  her  folly  in  having  been  uncivil  to  so  quiet 
and  regular  a  lodger. 

The  good  woman  was  gone  to  chapel  on  the  following 
day  when  Clive  arrived,  according  to  promise;  and  going 
straight  into  the  parlor,  greeted  his  friend  with  the  ques- 
tion : 

"  You  got  my  letter  yesterday  ?  " 

"Yes,  and  I  thank  you  for  it.  It  was  most  kind  of 
you  to  recommend  me." 

"  Kind  !  Oh,  to  Lady  Beatrice  !  Well,  I  think  it  was ; 
but  remember  I  only  hinted  at  you — said  you  might 
think  of  it.     I  am  not  at  all  sure  you  would  like  her." 

"Why  not?  You  tell  me  she  is  young  and  kind- 
hearted  ;  from  her  name,  I  presume  her  to  be  a  lady — 
three  very  pleasant  qualifications.  The  question  is"  (but 
she  looked  royally  calm  as  she  said  it)  "whether  she 
would  like  me." 

"  I  do  not  think  there  is  much  doubt  of  that — do  you  ? 
Only  tell  me,  why  shoukln't  you  go  to  the  other  ?-t— three 
nice  young  girls  really  needing  a  mother's  care,  and  no 
one  to  interfere  with — " 

"That  is  out  of  the  question" — and  she  spoke  with 
something  like  agitation — "I  will  not  go  where  there  are 
young  girls,  or  girls  at  all.     I  should  not  think  it  right." 

"In  Heaven's  name,  why?" 


CHAPTER  VII. 


FLINT   AND    STEEL. 


^' /^FFERED  it!    Of  course  she  oftered  it.    You  don't 

\^  think  for  one  moment  that  I  could  have  asked  her 
for  it,  do  you  ?" 

"To  tell  you  the  truth,  my  dear  fellow,  I  did  not  think 
for  one  moment  that  you  could  have  accepted  it.  Do  I 
understand  that  you  have  ?" 

"Well,  hang  it  all,  Clive !  it's  hard  if  a  fellow  mayn't 
accept  a  loan  from  his  own  sister,  and  when  it's  forced  on 
him  too.  I  declined  roundly  at  first,  but  she  was  bent  on 
having  her  own  way;  and  after  all,  you  see,  she  doesn't 
want,  and  can't  touch,  it  now,  or  for  the  next  three  years; 
and  before  then  I  shall  have  paid  her  back,  and  with  in- 
terest. I  insisted  on  that.  I  said,  '  Understand,  Kittie, 
if  I  borrow  the  use  of  this  money  now,  you  must  receive 
five  per  cent,  for  it.'  Oh !  I  assure  you  I  made  a  jioint 
of  that." 

dive's  lip  curled  satirically.  He  and  Dick  Bellew 
were  sitting  over  their  wine  in  the  Bellews'  dining-room 
after  dinner ;  and  some  men  might  have  been  offended  at 
the  look  of  faint  contempt  which  sat  so  undisguisedly  on 
his  keen,  sharply-cut  features ;  but  poor  Dick  was  too 
much  occupied  with  himself,  with  thumping  the  table  in 
an  authoritative  manner,  and  drawing  himself  up  with  an 
air  of  dignified  rectitude,  to  pay  heed  to  his  friend  for  the 
moment;  and  when  the  latter  spoke,  his  face  wore  its 
usual  impassive  expression. 

"I  have  no  doubt  that  argument  weighed  with  your 
60 


PRE  TTY  MISS  BELLE  W.  6 1 

sister,  only — it  is  as  well  to  look  at  the  dark  side  of 
things,  you  know,  Bellew — what  is  the  good  of  paying 
five  per  cent,  interest,  if  you  can't  return  the  principal?" 

"But  of  course  I  shall  return  it." 

"When?" 

"  Oh  !  by  degrees.  I  shall  have  got  settled  in  some- 
thing by  that  time.  If  only  that  old  uncle  of  mine  would 
get  me  my  commission,  I — " 

"  My  dear  fellow,  you  could  no  more  live  on  your  pay 
as  an  officer  than  fly.  As  to  paying  between  four  and 
five  hundred  pounds  out  of  it,  the  notion  is  simply  absurd. 
Banish  it." 

Dick  writhed  disconsolately.  He  was  leaning  back  in 
an  armchair,  with  his  back  turned  to  the  table  on  which 
the  dessert  still  remained,  and  his  legs  stretched  out  to  the 
fender.  The  red  firelight,  leaping  up,  flickered  and  flared 
on  his  pale  face,  rufiled  hair,  and  the  strange  little  lines 
on  his  brow. 

"  It's  — it's  deuced  hard,"  he  muttered,  tugging  pettishly 
at  the  ends  of  his  fair  moustache.  "  Whatever  did  my 
father  mean  by  making  such  a  v>'ill  ?     It  was  a  shame!  " 

"  Dc  moriuis  nil  nisi  bouim^''  said  Clive,  looking  up 
from  the  walnuts  which  he  was  peeling  with  delicately 
lazy  fingers,  while  he  talked ;  "  I  suppose  your  father 
wished  to  insure  the  rest  of  his  family  against  beggary." 

"Oh  !  you're  a  nice  comfort  for  a  man.  Can't  you  tell 
me  any  one  who  would  lend  the  money  on  Kate's  secu- 
rity ?  You  and  she  don't  seem  to  hit  it  off  well ;  but  1 
give  you  my  word  that  it's  safe  to  be  handed  over  the 
very  day  she  gets  it." 

"I  don't  in  the  least  doubt  it." 

"  And  as  to  interest,  of  course  I'd  pay  that  regularly — 
five,  six,  even  eight,  or  ten  per  cent.,  paid  up  every  (quar- 
ter— eh  ?  Come,  Clive,  I  know  you  havn't  it  yourself; 
but  you  must  know  some  one  who  has." 

"  Possibly  I  do ;  but  I  should  be  doing  you  a  very  un- 
friendly act  if  I  suggested  any  one.  Depend  on  it,  you 
would  not  thank  me  for  it  later." 

"I  shouldn't!     Why  not  ?  " 

"Simply  because  I  should  be  assisting  you  to  take  a 


62  PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 

mean  advantage  of  your  sister's  unthinking  generosity. 
What,  Bellew  !  " — the  lazy  blue  eyes  suddenly  flashing  out 
like  the  glitter  of  a  naked  sword — "  you,  a  man  and  able 
to  earn  for  yourself  if  you  chose,  a  man  with  a  widowed 
mother  and  half  a  dozen  little  brothers  and  sisters,  and 
who  ought  to  be  the  prop  and  stay  of  the  whole  family, 
rob  a  helpless  girl  of  half  the  little  money  which,  for 
aught  you  know,  may  be  her  sole  dependence  in  time  to 
come !  Bah !  if  I  were  to  help  you  in  such  a  selfish,  cow- 
ardly deed,  I  should  despise  myself  as  thoroughly  as — " 

"As  w^,  I  suppose  you  mean.  Say  it  out.  Oh,  pray 
don't  mince  words ! "  cried  Dick,  angrily ;  and  then  the 
door  opened,  and  Kate  stood  in  the  opening,  with  the 
lamplight  on  her  white  dress  and  brow,  and  on  the  knot 
of  wax-like,  sweet-smelling  narcissus,  nestled  among  the 
rich-colored  wavy  coils  of  her  beautiful  hair. 

She  was  a  quick  girl,  and  at  the  first  glance  saw 
that  something  more  than  a  difference  of  opinion  was 
amiss  between  the  two  young  men.  Even  Clive's  swift 
change  from  fiery  scorn  and  indignation  to  languid 
absorption  in  a  walnut,  was  not  instantaneous  enough  to 
escape  her  notice;  and  Dick's  face,  always  ready  to  take 
every  shade  of  emotion,  was  red  and  quivering  with 
angry  mortification.     Clive  "rose"  to  the  occasion. 

"Here  is  your  sister,  Bellew,"  he  said,  "come  to  see 
why  we  sit  quarreling  over  politics  in  place  of  respond- 
ing to  the  invitation  of  that  pretty  melody  from  above. 
I  assure  you  I  was  enjoying  it  even  here.  Miss  Bellew." 

Kate  did  not  believe  him,  and  barely  accorded  a  smile 
of  civility  to  what  she  mentally  pronounced  to  be  "  hum- 
bug." 

"I  was  looking  for  you,  Dick,  dear,"  she  said,  turning 
to  her  brother.  "  I  want  to  know  about  going  to  the 
concert  to-morrow,  because  William  must  order  the  car- 
riage this  evening.     Did  you  get  the  tickets  ?" 

She  had  gone  up  to  her  brother  and  laid  her  hand 
on  his  shoulder,  with  a  little  caressing  gesture  which 
said,  "I  know  that  abominable  man  is  quarreling  with 
you  and  making  you  angry;  but  /  am  here  now,  and 
with  me  on  your  side  he  can't  go  on." 


rRETTY  MISS  BELLEIV.  63 

Dick  got  up  rather  irritably;  but  when  does  a  man 
appreciate,  or  even  understand,  these  httle  unspoken 
finesses  of  love,  if  they  come  from  a  motlier  or  sister  ? 
Let  it  be  a  sweetheart  indeed — but  that  is  quite  differ- 
ent. 

"What  a  tease  you  are,  Kittie!"  he  said.  "Yes,  I  got 
them ;  but  I  don't  think  they  were  for  to-morrow. 
They're  in  my  desk — no,  you  can't  get  them.  I  suppose 
I  must  go  myself     Are  you  ready,  Clive?" 

He  was  following  his  sister  to  the  door,  but  Clive 
stopped  him  with  a  hand  on  his  shoulder.  Kate  trippeJ 
on  all  unconscious :  and  the  young  lawyer  spoke  in  a 
very  low  tone : 

"Bellew,  you  must  excuse  my  plain  speaking  just  now. 
I  am  sure  you  can  see  the  matter  for  yourself  in  the  same 
light.  Look  at  that  child" — nodding  his  head  in  the 
direction  of  the  white  dress  fluttering  so  lightly  upstairs — 
"you  would  never  go  and  use  her  poor  little  money.  I 
know  you  better  than  that." 

"Then  I  suppose  you  know  that  I  am  competent  to 
take  care  of  my  .sister  for  myself,  thank  you,"  retorted 
Dick  ;  "  she's  rather  more  to  me,  I  hope,  than  she  is  to 
you!" 

"Rather!"  said  Clive,  Hghtly.  "Except  as  your  sis- 
ter, I  was  not  indeed  aware  that  she  was  anything  to 
me." 

"Then  don't  stand  up  for  her  against  me.  I  asked 
you  to  do  me  a  service.  If  you  won't,  I  must  go  to 
some  one  who  will,  that's  all.     Let  us  go  upstairs." 

"  One  moment !  You  imply  that  I  have  interfered 
wUh  your  conduct.  I  acknowledge  it,  and  apologize  for 
the  impertinence.  Now  we  will  go  up  if  you  like,  and  I 
will  lake  the  ojjportunity  of  bidding  your  mother  good- 
bve.     I  must  be  off  before  breakfast  to-morrow." 

"Going!"  cried  Dick,  turning  around,  his  temper 
quelled  in  dismay.  "What's  that  for  .^  I  say,  Clive, 
you're  not  going  to  quarrel  with  me,  are  you?" 

"I  hope  not." 

"  I  suppose  you're  offended  because  I  lost  my  temper 
just  now,"  said  Dick,  half  sulkily ;  "but,  you  see,  a  fellow 


64  PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 

don't  like  to  be  dictated  to,  and  told  he's  a —  By  Jove ! 
you  know  that's  too  much" — heating  anew  at  the  thought 
— "and  if  it  had  been  any  other  man,  I'd — but  there!  I 
say,  Clive  " — dropping  again  into  the  minor  key — "  you 
don't  mean  it,  I  know,  and  of  course  you  can  see  for 
yourself  how  it  is.  Don't  go  and  quarrel  with  a  fellow 
because  he  can't  take  your  advice  in  one  matter." 

"I  always  mean  all  that  I  say,"  said  Clive,  coolly. 
"I've  already  told  you,  however,  that  what  I  said  was 
unjustifiable.  As  to  quarreling,  that  is  absurd.  I  had 
intended  going  to-morrow.  You  forget  Fve  got  my 
living  to  earn." 

"I  wish  to  heaven  I  could  earn  a  living  anywhere," 
said  Dick,  despondently.  "  Look  at  my  old  screw  of 
an  uncle  rolling  in  money,  and  won't  even  shell  out 
to —  Ugh !  I'm  the  most  unlucky  beggar  on  the  face  of  the 
earth." 

He  was  standing  up  under  the  gas-lamp,  his  shoulders 
humped  up,  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  his  light  hair 
rumpled,  a  thousand  little  lines  and  wrinkles  marring  with 
a  strange  network  the  young,  boyish  face ;  the  bitten  ends 
of  his  fair  moustache  drooping  raggedly  over  the  weak, 
nervous  mouth :  a  pitiful  picture  of  wasted  youth  and  an- 
ticipated old  age,  unconscious  of  its  own  dishonor.  Clive, 
looking  down  on  him,  in  the  full  vigor  of  his  strength  and 
manliness,  had  something  of  compassion  in  the  gaze. 
His  lips  moved  with  what  looked  like  "Poor  wretch!" 
but  the  words  themselves  were  inaudible;  and  just  then 
the  two  younger  girls'  voices  were  heard  upon  the  landing 
above. 

"  I  should  so  have  liked  to  go,"  said  Eve.  "  Fancy  a 
month  at  Mentone  now,  when  it  is  so  damp  and  chilly 
here !  Dr.  Parish  said  it  would  do  me  more  good  than 
all  those  nasty  tonics ;  and  the  Saltrams  are  so  nice,  and 
would  have  treated  me  quite  as  a  grown-up —  Oh 
Madgie!  isn't  it  hard?" 

"  Awfully,"  said  Madgie's  hearty  voice  \  "  but  mamma 
says  you  would  want  a  regular  outfit ;  and  then  the 
journey !  She  can't  afford  it.  1  suppose  she  has  to  give 
Dick  so  much." 


PRJC'J'TV  MISS  BEL/. Kir.  65 

"The  Saltrains  will  never  ask  me  again,"  sighed  Eve. 
"If  only  we  were  not  so  poor!  It  is  well  for  you  who 
never  feel  ill" — and  then  the  two  girlish  voices  died  away, 
and  the  men  passed  into  the  drawing-room. 

Later  in  the  evening,  Kate  was  just  finishing  a  song 
which  Lady  Margaret  had  asked  for,  when  Clive's  voice 
said  in  her  ear : 

"  Will  you  give  me  ten  minutes'  conversation  after  that 
is  done,  Miss  Bellew?" 

Kate  stared. 

"Certainly,"  she  said,  frigidly,  and  with  an  amount  of 
astonishment  in  her  manner  which  caused  Clive  to  add 
rather  pointedly : 

"  It  is  about  your  eldest  brother,  or  I  should  not  pre- 
sume on  such  a  request." 

"About  Dick  !"  said  Kate,  quickly,  and  all  her  frigidity 
went.  They  were  alone  in  the  biick  drawing-room,  where 
the  piano  stood.  Heavy  ruby-colored  curtains  draped 
the  arch  which  divided  them  from  the  rest  of  the 
company ;  and  through  the  opening  one  saw  a  bright 
glow  of  lamp  and  firelight :  Dick  sprawling  on  the  sofa ;. 
his  mother  sitting  near  him,  with  her  cup  of  tea  perilously 
tilted  on  her  knee;  and  the  juvenile  trio  playing  Bezique 
at  the  centre  table.  It  all  looked  very  bright  and  com- 
fortable. Even  Lady  Margaret's  somewhat  shabby  black 
velvet  gown  assumed  a  regal  gloss  and  richness  in  the 
friendly  firelight;  and  Eve's  frost-white  face  and  crocus- 
colored  hair  came  out  in  Pre-Raphaelite  relief  against  the 
bowl  of  dark  green  ferns  behind  her.  And  yet  there  were 
shadows  and  skeletons  unbidden  lurking  behind  all  that 
glow  and  brightness  which  made  the  inner  room  look 
dark  in  comparison,  and  barely  threw  more  than  a  re- 
fracted gleam  on  Kate's  white  dress  and  shining  eyes,  as 
she  turned,  her  pretty  dimpled  hands  still  resting  on  the 
keys,  her  face  upraised  in  eager,  half-resentful  incjuiry,  to 
the  tall  dark  figure  of  the  man  leaning  with  folded  arms 
upon  the  instrument  in  front  of  her. 
"What  about  Dick?" 

"Perhaps  you  will  think  me  very  meddling  and  intru- 
sive  in   saying    anything    about    your    brother    to   you," 

5 


66  PRETTY  MISS  BELLE  W. 

Clive  answered,  in  the  same  low  tone;  "may  I,  therefore, 
ask  you  to  beheve  that  it  is  as  his  friend,  and  because  I 
Uke  him  somewhat,  and  take  as  much  interest  in  him  as  I 
can  spare  from  my  own  concerns  for  any  one,  that  I  do 
so." 

"I  know  Dick  considers  you  his  friend,"  said  Kate,  her 
fingers  tinghng.  "No  one  can  help  liking  him  that 
knows  him,  and  then  you  are  a  sort  of  cousin — of  course 
you  can  say  what  you  like." 

"And  you  will  kindly  regard  it  as  said  in  confidence  ?" 
He  did  not  smile  at  Kate's  answer,  and  she  stared  again. 

"^  confidence,  Mr.  Clive?" 

"Exactly.  Your  mother  has,  I  believe,  confidence  in 
me.  I  simply  ask  you  to  have  it  with  me  in  a  matter  re- 
specting Dick  only,  and  for  Dick's  sake." 

"  If  it  is  for  Dick's  sake — "  said  Kate,  annoyed,  but 
glancing  wistfully  at  the  reclining  figure  in  the  outer 
room — "  I  suppose —     Well,  Mr.  Clive,  what  is  it  ?  " 

He  did  smile  this  time.  Her  reluctance  to  admit  him 
to  anything  like  intimacy,  and  her  dread  of  refusing  lest 
she  might  prejudice  Dick,  were  too  childishly  manifesc ; 
and  she  saw  the  smile,  misconstrued  it,  and  disliked  him 
more  for  it. 

"  Dick  is  very  heavily  in  debt,  as  you  know,  Miss  Bel- 
lew,"  said  Clive ;  "  I  believe  it  comes  to  four  hundred  and 
eighty  pounds ;  and  where  it  has  gone,  except  in  folly 
and—" 

"Please  don't  talk  about  Dick's  follies,"  said  Kate, 
sharply.  "  He  mayn't  be  as  prudent  and  economical  as 
an  old  miser  of  ninety.  I  dare  say  he  isn't.  I  shouldn't 
like  him  if  he  were.  Please  go  on.  I  know  all  about  his 
debts.  Perhaps  you  don't  know  that  he  is  going  to  pay 
them  all  off  at  once." 

"With  your  money,"  said  Clive.  "Yes,  he  has  told 
me  so ;  and  I  am  hoping  to  induce  you  to  change  your 
mind." 

"  Change  my  mind  !     What  on  ?  " 

"And  to  retract  your  ofter  of  assisting  him  with  that 
money  your  aunt  left  you." 

Kate  was  speechless  with  surprise  and  indignation. 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE VV. 


67 


"You  propose  to  lend  it  to  him,"  said  Clive,  calmly  ; 
"  have  you  ever  thought  how  he  is  to  repay  it,  or  when  ?  " 

"Of  course  not.     Why,  Mr.  Clive,  I—" 

"  He  has  now  the  same  allowance  as  most  young  men 
in  his  position — much  more  than  I  had  in  my  day — and 
amply  sufficient  for  every  reasonable  want — " 

"  Dick  says  he  can't  do  upon  it,  so  I  think  you  must 
be  mistaken,"  said  Kate,  rebelliously. 

"  Dick  has  proved  he  can't.  He  has  already  got  into 
debt  three  times ;  and  your  mother  has  cleared  him  with 
great  difficulty,  by  crippling  herself,  and  depriving  her 
younger  children  of  their  just  wants.  He  is  now  in  debt 
again,  and  she  cannot  help  him.  She  is  not  young,  and 
has  already  exposed  herself  to  considerable  blame  and 
anxiety  by  outrunning  her  means  for  this  one  son.  Do 
you  justify  your  brother  in  this,  Miss  Bellew?" 

"No!"  cried  Kate,  with  a  sort  of  passionate  sob;  "I 
— Oh,  poor  mamma !  Of  course,  I  know  how  hard  it  is 
for  her;  but  /  am  going  to  pay  this.  He  calls  it  lending, 
but  it  is  not.  1  never  want  it  back.  I  give  it  him.  No 
one  need  trouble  about  his  repaying  it — or  be  afraid  of 
my  changing  my  mind,"  said  Kate,  haughtily ;  "  I  don't 
know  anything  about  law,  but  I  would  swear  or  write  any- 
thing now,  and  directly  1  am  of  age — but  surely  a  lady's 
word  is  enough  ! " 

"  Not  always,"  said  Clive,  with  perfect  coolness.  "  I 
am  afraid  business  men  would,  for  example,  hardly  be 
satisfied  with  it  in  the  present  case.  You  forget  that, 
though  you  call  this  money  yours,  it  is  really  not  yours, 
but  only  in  trust  for  you  till  you  are  of  age;  and  if  you 
were  to  marry  it  would  (unless  secured  to  your  private 
use  in  the  marriage  setdement)  belong  to  your  husband, 
and  be  at  his  disposal." 

"My  husband:"  cried  Kate,  half  laughing;  "one 
would  think  he  were  in  existence  to  hear  you  and  Dick. 
How  do  you  know  1  shall  ever  marry  ?" 

"Judging  from  the  utter  want  of  common-sense  or 
prudence  among  most  of  my  fellow-men,  I  should  think 
it  likely,"  replied  Clive,  in  the  same  dry  manner.  "Also, 
as  I  should  imagine  you  specially  unfitted  for  a  very  poor 


68  >^Vi'A-  TTY  MISS  BELLE  W. 

man's  wife,  I  could  venture  to  predict  your  husband  will 
be  exceptionally  hard  up  ;  and  I  should  like  to  know  how 
you  will  feel  when  obliged  to  choose  between  helpless  ba- 
bies crying  for  bread-and-butter,  and  a  big  brother  crying 
for  extravagancies  which  he  would  never  have  got  into  if 
you  had  not  insisted  on  defraying  them  for  him  ?  You 
are  fond  of  your  brother  now.  Miss  Bellew.  Do  you 
think  you  would  be  less  fond  of  your  husband  and  chil- 
dren then  ?  " 

"Dick  is  here,"  said  Kate,  furiously  scarlet  by  now, 
"and — Mr.  Clive,  people  don't  generally  speak  of  these 
sort  of  things  to — " 

"  To  young  ladies  ?  No,  I  grant  you,  it  is  the  general 
practice  to  tie  their  legs  and  bandage  their  eyes,  before 
setting  them  off  to  thread  their  way  among  the  precipices 
and  quicksands  of  life.  Society  has  so  decreed.  I  agree 
with  society  in  most  things — " 

"I  don't,"  said  Kate,  "I  think  it  is  great  nonsense." 

"But  in  this  case  I  am  speaking  as  a  man  of  business 
to  a  novice.     Have  I  affected  your  decision  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Kate,  promptly,  "of  course  not.  You  talk 
of  contingencies  and  probabilities,  and  would  like  me  to 
behave  cruelly  and  unkindly  to  darling  Dick  now,  be- 
cause twenty  years  hence  there  is  some  remote  chance  of 
some  one  else  wanting  the  money  which  he  wants  at 
present.  I  may  be  a  novice  in  business,  but  I  know  that 
is — Oh,  please  don't  say  any  more.  I  can't  think  why 
you,  who  call  yourself  Dick's  friend,  should  be  taking  so 
much  trouble  to  harm  him." 

"  I  don't  suppose  you  can,"  observed  Clive.  "  Pray  sit 
still  a  moment  longer,  Miss  Bellew.  My  ten  minutes  are 
not  out  yet.  It  is  because  I  call  myself  Dick's  friend  that 
I  want  to  prevent  you  from  harming  him." 

"  Me  !"  Dusk  as  it  was,  he  saw  the  indignant  flash  in 
her  bright  eyes  at  this  crowning  injury. 

"Yes,  you.  I  have  appealed  to  you  for  your  own 
sake  and  your  mother's,  but  I  had  better  have  spoken 
for  Dick  at  once.  Why  should  you.  Miss  Bellew,  take 
advantage  of  his  extravagance  to  propose  and  urge  his 
doing  a  dirty,  dishonorable  act,  which  would  lower  him 


PRETTY  MLSS  BELLE IV. 


69 


in  the  eyes  of  every  man  of  honor  ?  What !  you,  a  lady, 
with  a  lady's  feelings,  and  think  that  gentlemen  would 
encourage  your  brother  in  taking  a  girl's  money  to  pay 
off  his  debts — and  such  debts  as  his!  By  heavens!  if 
you  brought  him  to  such  a  pitch  of  meanness,  he  would 
never  recover  it,  or  cease  to  rei)roach  you.  Every  penny 
you  have  would  follow  by  degrees,  and  you  would  see 
yourself  beggared,  and  your  brother  an  idle,  helpless 
spendthrift,  cut  by  every  man  worth  knowing,  and  a 
prey  to  the  miserable  cads  who  alone  would  assist  him  in 
such  an  utterly  unmanly  mode  of  money-raising.  There  ! 
I  have  made  you  cry,  and  when  you  have  dried  your 
eyes  you  will  be  satisfied  with  calling  me  a  brute.  That 
is  always  the  way  with  you  young  women.  However,  I 
can't  help  it.  Please  to  forgive  me.  I  knew  I  should 
do  no  good,  and  I've  done  none.  Now  I  am  going,  and 
1  dare  say  you  won't  shake  hands  with  me,  but — " 

"Wait  one  minute,"  cried  Kate,  lifting  her  wet  face 
from  the  hands  in  which  she  had  hidden  it.  "I  am 
not  crying;  and  as  to  calling  you  names — but  I  hope  I 
am  not  as  unjust  and  discourteous  as — " 

"As  I  am,  par  exe^nple"  put  in  Clive,  with  a  lively 
recollection  of  the  epithet  "pig,"  as  applied  to  himself 
on  the  evening  of  their  first  acquaintanceship.  "Well, 
I  have  heard  young  ladies  use  even  as  strong  expressions 
as  'brute'  in  regard  to  people  they  disliked.  But  I  beg 
your  pardon.  Of  course,  I  have  no  right  to  suppose 
you  could  do  so." 

It  was  keen  retaliation,  and  cut  to  the  quick ;  for  Kate 
remembered  too,  and  with  a  misery  of  shame  which  he 
was  far  from  guessing,  or  he  had  never  so  spoken.  If  he 
could  but  have  thought  the  words  without  saying  them ; 
or  having  said  them,  if  he  could  only  have  taken  them 
back !  But,  alas !  how  little  can  be  taken  back  in  life, 
and  how  easy  it  is  to  say  the  things  we  regret !  Verily 
and  indeed,  the  tongue  is  "a  little  fire,"  and  "if  any  man 
offend  not  in  word,  the  same  is  a  perfect  man,  and  able 
also  to  bridle  the  whole  body."  The  sarcastic  retort  was 
hardly  out  of  Clive's  lips  before  he  repented  it,  and  was 
already  cursing  his  own  irritated  pride,  when  Kate  stood 


JO  PRETTY  MISS  BELLE  IV. 

up  flushing  and  paling  like  one  who  has  received  a  sting- 
ing blow,  but  speaking  with  more  dignity  than  he  had 
supposed  her  capable  of. 

"  Mr.  Clive,"  she  said,  looking  up  at  him  with  very 
childlike  simplicity,  "  I  know  what  you  mean.  You  heard 
me  say  something  very  foolish  to  my  brother  the  day  you 
came  here.  It  was  wrong  of  me — hasty  and  unladylike ; 
but  if  you  are  one  of  a  large  family,  you  must  know  that 
brothers  and  sisters  often  talk  in  a  thoughtless  way  to  each 
other,  and  use  strong  expressions  without  meaning  them, 
which  they  would  be  very  sorry  to  repeat  in  earnest.  If 
I  had  not  thought  it  impossible  you  could  remember  or 
lay  weight  to  such  a  silly  speech,  I  would  have  apologized 
for  it  before,  as  I  do  now." 

How  strangely  opposites  meet !  No  two  women 
could  be  more  widely  unlike  than  Kate  Bellew  and  Averil 
Grey  :  and  yet  there  was  something  of  the  latter's  queen- 
liness  in  the  junior's  girlish  figure  as  she  made  her  httle 
ametide.  Clive  felt  it  at  once,  and  answered  in  a  more 
subdued  tone  than  she  had  ever  heard  from  him  : 

"  It  was  I  who  was  wrong,  and  you  have  rebuked  me 
justly.  Of  course  I  know  the  difference  between  a  hasty 
word  in  one's  own  family  and — but  it  is  no  use  excusing 
myself;  only  believe  me,  if  I  have  disgusted  you  by  my 
thin-skinned  vanity,  I  have  disgusted  myself  much  more."' 

Kate  believed  it,  indeed.  There  was  a  depth  of  self- 
contempt  in  the  proud  man's  tone  which  moved  her  own 
generosity,  and  as  he  rose  to  go  she  checked  him  with 
outstretched  hand. 

"Let  us  both  forget  it,  Mr.  Clive,  and  think  of  my 
brother  instead.  What  you  said  about  him  was  dreadful. 
I  had  never  thought  of  it  in  that  light.  Are  you  sure  you 
meant  it  ?" 

"  Every  word." 

"  But  what  shall  I  do  ?  His  debts  must  be  paid,  and  I 
have  promised — " 

"Will  you  let  me  advise  you  ?" 

"If  you  will." 

"Tell  your  brother  that  you  find  that  what  you  pro- 
posed was  impossible,  being  illegal,  and  that  you  would 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE  W.  >j ^ 

not  be  allowed  to  carry  it  out.  If  you  will  give  me  your 
word  of  honor,  Miss  Belle w,  to  do  this,  and  to  resist  any 
after  effort  to  induce  you  to  make  over  part  or  all  of  your 
small  property  for  your  brother's  use,  I  will  pledge  you 
my  word  that  all  he  owes  at  present  shall  be  settled 
within  three  months." 

"  Will  you  really  ?  "  cried  Kate,  all  coldness  forgotten 
in  joy — "but  how  }     He  told  me  you  could  not — " 

"Lend  him  the  money?  No;  I  am  a  poor  man  my- 
self; but  I  can  manage  to  procure  it  for  him,  and  on  such 
conditions  as  will  oblige  him  to  curtail  expenses  which 
are  ruining  him,  and  force  him  to  exert  himself  a  little,  as 
the  eldest  son  of  a  widowed  mother  should  be  proud  to 
do  if  he  has  any  manliness  in  him." 

"  You  are  very  hard,"  said  Kate,  wincing ;  "  I  beg 
your  pardon,  but  I  love  Dick,  and  indeed  he  is  manly. 
You  don't  know  what  a  dear,  good  fellow  he  is.  Many 
young  men  are  extravagant  at  first." 

"And  go  to  ruin  in  the  end,  I  dare  say;  but  you 
would  hardly  call  a  man  hard  who  would  prevent  his 
brother  from  tumbling  over  a  precipice,  even  if  he  had  to 
give  him  a  rough  jerk  in  the  eftbrt.  Do  you  know  why  I 
care  enough  about  Dick  to  try  to  check  him  ?  Simply 
because  he  has  a  look  of  .some  one  I  loved — my  younger 
brother,  who  went  to  the  bad,  and — died." 

He  held  out  his  hand  as  he  spoke — something  like  a 
quiver  about  the  stern  mouth  ;  and  Kate  answered,  sym- 
pathetically : 

•'  I  will  give  you  my  promise,  Mr.  Clive,  only  save 
Dick." 

"Help  him  to  save  himself.  Miss  Bellew ;  and  now 
thank  you  for  your  long  patience.  We  don't  get  on 
jirettily  together" — and  he  smiled — "but  even  though  you 
mayn't  like  me,  or  I  you,  we  will  remember  that  this  is  a 
bargain,  and  keep  to  it  accordingly." 

"And  I  almost  did  like  him  for  a  moment,"  said  Kate 
to  herself,  when  he  had  joined  the  others.  "  I  am  glad 
he  didn't  guess  it.  A  hard,  discourteous  man,  whom  one 
can't  be  kind  to.     And  after  all,  he  is  only  going  to  get 


72 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW, 


the  money  from  some  one  who  will  bully  poor  Dick;  but 
if  it's  for  Dick's  good — and  the  dear  boy  is  rather  idle, 
though  I  would  never  let  any  one  hear  me  say  so." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

BROTHER  AND  SISTER. 

KATE  had  given  her  word,  and  never  dreamed  of  go- 
ing back  from  it ;  but  the  task  was  not  an  easy  one, 
and  she  might  have  remained  puzzling  over  the  miserable 
question,  "how  to  do  it,"  for  ever,  had  not  Dick  himself 
assisted  her  to  the  solution.  Dick  was  not  happy  in  his 
mind.  Lord  Lovegoats  had,  to  quote  the  young  man's 
own  phrase,  snubbed  the  nose  off  his  face  on  the  occa- 
sion of  their  meeting  in  Hyde  Park.  Lady  Margaret's 
own  nose  was  quite  red  from  incessant  rubbing,  and  her 
face  wore  an  irritating  expression  of  despondency,  much 
like  the  handkerchiefs  with  broad  black  borders  which 
some  ladies  zuUl  flourish  in  the  world's  face,  as  a  sort  of 
outward  symbol  of  the  grief  they  ought  to  feel;  while 
Clive  had  said  nasty,  rude  things  to  him,  which  slashed 
up  poor  Dick's  self-love,  and  made  him  nervous  and  pet- 
ulant. He  had  not  the  least  idea  of  going  back  from  his 
own  way,  or  rclincjuishing  such  a  tempting  windfall  as 
Kate's  money ;  but  somehow  the  idea  had  lost  its  first 
charm,  and  even  perpetual  iterations  of"  Of  course  it's  only 
a  loan,  I  shall  pay  it  back  to  her  with  interest  and  all  that," 
failed  to  afford  him  the  moral  consolation  that  might  have 
been  expected.  It  was  all  very  well  to  say  of  Clive, 
"Confound  the  fellow's  impertinence!  What  right  has 
he  to  regulate  my  conduct?"  but  still  tlie  impertinence 
rankled,  and  to  get  rid  of  the  sting  and  rehabilitate  him- 
self in  his  own  eyes.  Master  Dick  took  an  early  opportu- 
nity of  broaching  the  subject  again  to  Kate — poor  little 

73 


74 


PRETTY  M/SS  BELLEW. 


Kate ! — who  for  the  first  time  in  her  Hfe  was  keeping  out 
of  his  way,  with  a  guilty  sense  of  being  about  to  injure 
him  in  the  basest  manner,  under  pretense  of  doing  him 
good — acting,  as  she  thought  to  herself  with  withering 
scorn,  much  as  people  do  when  they  whip  children  and 
tell  them  it  is  for  their  good,  and  that  it  is  much  greater 
pain  for  them  (the  executioners)  to  administer  the  whip- 
ping than  for  the  wretched  little  victims  to  receive  it. 
Kate  hated  this  simile,  and  yet  it  would  occur  to  her,  as 
it  might  to  you,  intelligent  reader,  if  you  have  ever  seen 
through  this  solemn  humbug  with  the  wonderfully  clear 
eyes  of  infancy,  and  resented,  either  in  silent  writhings  or 
rebellious  answer,  the  speech  which  added  insult  to  in- 

I  don't  think  silence  was  a  forte  of  mine  in  childhood 
— at  least,  I  always  remember  getting  my  floggings  in 
doubles — one  for  the  primary  naughtiness,  whatever  it 
was,  which  had  to  be  thus  taken  out  of  my  poor  little 
flesh,  and  another  for  what  was  termed  my  impertinence, 
being  a  prompt  and  incredulous  retort  upon  the  cold- 
blooded speechifying  with  which  women,  in  particular, 
delight  to  salt  their  cat-o '-nine-tails. 

Kate  hated  it,  as  I  have  said,  and  as  a  matter  of  course 
she  hated  Bernard  Clive  for  having  instigated  her  to  so 
barbarous  a  proceeding;  and  yet  she  never  thought  of 
breaking  her  word  once  given.  Her  very  heart  yearned 
over  Dick,  and  so  she  kept  out  of  his  way,  that  she 
might  not  be  tempted  to  gratify  him  at  any  cost.  When 
on  the  following  day  she  saw  her  brother  sauntering  up 
to  her  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and  a  more  jaded 
look  than  usual  on  his  face,  her  heart  began  to  leap  in 
quick  impulsive  throbs,  and  she  was  fain  to  stoop  her 
head  over  the  bowl  of  tulips  and  hyacinths  she  was  ar- 
ranging, to  hide  the  rush  of  color  to  her  face. 

Dick  did  not  speak  at  first,  but  stood  looking  on  in 
moody  silence  till  Kate,  feeling  that  her  face  was  betray- 
ing her,  gave  him  a  spray  of  white,  fairy -like  bells,  and 
asked  him  if  it  wouldn't  be  a  beauty  for  his  button-hole. 

"Beauty?  H'm!  oh,  it's  well  enough,"  grumbled 
Dick.  '■  I  say,  it's  fine  to  be  you,  with  nothing  to  do  or 
think  of  but  playing  with  flowers,  and  that  rubbish." 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE W. 


75 


"  Can  I  do  anything  for  you,  Dick,  dear  ?  and,  oh  ! 
don't  you  like  to  see  the  flowers  set  out  prettily  round 
you  ?  "  said  Kate. 

Dick  grunted  again. 

"  For  me  ?  No,  of  course  not.  Since  you're  so  clever 
at  twisting  flowers  about,  Katie,  you'd  better  stick  to  it, 
and  then  you'll  be  able  to  make  swell  wreaths  and  crosses 
for  my  grave  when  I'm  in  it.  I  dare  say  it  won't  be  long 
first." 

"  Oh,  Dick!  "  cried  Kate,  with  a  quick  shudder  of  pain  ; 
and  then  her  native  common  sense  came  to  her  aid,  and 
threw  back  the  shock  his  words  had  given  her.  "  How 
can  you  talk  such  nonsense  ?  "  she  said,  with  a  little 
w'holesome  anger. 

"Oh,  of  course  it's  nonsense  to  you,"  said  Dick, 
sulkily.  "  None  of  you  might  care;  but  I  tell  you  what, 
it'll  come  to  that  some  day,  if  things  aren't  altered." 

It  was  on  the  tip  of  Kate's  tongue  to  say  that  she  sup- 
posed it  would  come  to  that  some  day,  w^hether  things 
were  altered  or  not:  Nature  not  being  likely  to  abrogate 
her  law  of  universal  dissolution  in  favor  of  Dick  Bellew ; 
but  the  retort  never  got  farther  than  the  least  little  sparkle 
in  the  corner  of  her  bright  eyes.  Kate  had  jjlenty  of 
mother-wit  in  her  composition,  but  she  would  have 
smothered  it  all  rather  than  give  the  tiniest  twinge  to 
those  she  loved,  so  she  controlled  herself  and  said  noth- 
ing; and  Dick  took  umbrage  thereat,  as  was  natural. 

"Well,  have  you  nothing  to  say  to-day  ?"  he  asked. 
"  Upon  my  word,  this  is  a  lively  house  to  come  home  to !  A 
schoolroom  full  of  noisy  children,  my  mother  going  about 
with  a  face  like  a  galvanized  gargoyle ;  and  you  so  abom- 
inably rude  to  my  friends,  you  actually  drive  them  out 
of  the  house.  Upon  my  life,  it's  enough  to — but  there, 
it's  all  of  a  piece;"  and  Dick  turned  on  his  heel  with 
what  he  meant  for  a  bitter  laugh  of  derision. 

Poor  fellow!  he  had  no  idea  what  a  delightful  subject 
for  a  comic  paper  he  would  have  made ;  and,  fortunately, 
Kate  was  too  fond  of  him  to  see  the  joke  as  keenly  as  she 
would  had  it  been  any  one  else. 

"  Dick,"  she  said,  gravely,  '•  I  did  not  mean  to  be  rude 


76 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 


to  Mr.  Clive.  He  does  not  like  me — he  said  so,"  and 
the  young  lady's  cheeks  colored  high  at  the  remembrance 
— "so  it  was  not  to  be  expected  that  I  should  be  very 
empressee  to  him.  Of  course,  every  one  has  different 
tastes  in  girls"  (Kate  thought  here  that  Mr.  Clive's  tastes 
were  very  different  from  the  majority  of  her  acquaint- 
ances') "  but  some  people  might  think  it  rude  to  express 
them  in — " 

"  Did  Clive  tell  you  he  didn't  like  you  ? "  cried  Dick, 
turning  round  with  a  laugh  which  rather  hurt  Kate. 
"  By  Jove !  he's  a  cool  hand — too  cool  by  half  some- 
times"— and  the  laugh  died  out  in  a  sudden  frown. 
"  I'm  not  sorry  for  some  things,  that  he  would  go  to-day. 
Those  successful  fellows  haven't  much  sympathy  for  a 
poor  devil  who  doesn't  know  what  to  do  for  a  sixpence 
to  bless  himself  with." 

"  Dear  Dick  ! "  said  Kate,  coaxingly.  "  But  if  you 
would  only  take  your  degree,  and  settle  to — anything,  I 
am  sure  poor  papa's  name,  or  Uncle  Theo.,  could  get  you 
a  berth  in  the — Home  Office,  for  instance." 

"  Hang  the  Home  Office  !  Do  you  think  I  want  to  be 
tied  to  a  desk  all  day,  Kittie,  like  a  merchant's  clerk?" 
cried  Dick,  petulantly.  "  Let  him  give  me  a  commission. 
I'd  say  'Thank  you'  then,  if  you  like;  and  he  could  do 
it  to-morrow  if  he  would,  hang  him !  " 

"  But  he  won't,  Dick,  so  what  is  the  good  of  thinking 
of  it !  He  said  he  wouldn't  after  you  refused  to  go  into 
the  Church." 

"The  Churcli  /  That  is  a  good  joke.  I'd  like  to  see 
what  those  old  dufters  at  Oxford  would  say  to  it.  I 
wonder  Uncle  Theo.  doesn't  propose  himself  for  a  bish- 
opric as  well.     We  should  be  a  nice  pair  of — " 

"  Don't  talk  in  that  way,  Dick.  I  hate  it,"  cried  Kate, 
who  knew  as  much  of  Lord  Lovegoats's  shortcomings  as 
might  with  propriety  filter  to  the  ears  of  a  young  lady, 
"/don't  think  you  would  have  made  a  good  clergyman; 
but  you  needn't  make  yourself  out  to  be  like  Uncle  Theo. 
because  you  have  been  a  little  wild,  and  got  into  debt." 

"  I  should  care  deuced  little  about  getting  into  debt  if 
I  could  only  get  out  again,"  said  Dick,  candidly :  then  in 


PRE  TT  V  MISS  BELLE  W.  77 

a  reverse  tone — "Of  course  it's  all  nonsense  about  my 
taking  your  money;"  and  there  he  came  to  a  pause, 
waiting  to  be  contradicted,  and  set  right  with  himself. 

Kate,  however,  disappointed  him.  Never  thinking  but 
that  he  was  in  earnest,  her  heart  gave  a  great  bound,  and 
she  looked  up  in  nervous  silence  to  see  what  would  follow. 

"You  might  regret  offering  it,  or  want  it  back  as  soon 
as  you  came  of  age,  and  before  I  could  give  it  you," 
Dick  went  on,  rather  crossly;  "and  though  1  needn't  say 
1  should  return  it  with  interest —  But  of  course  that  was 
only  a  joke  of  yours.  We  neither  of  us  meant  to  touch 
it  for  my  debts,"  finished  up  the  young  man,  in  a  tone 
whose  rising  indignation  at  not  being  mterrupted  again 
savored  of  the  comic. 

Very  slowly,  and  with  a  burning  face,  Kate  answered, 
her  hands  busy  among  a  heap  of  yellow  tulip-buds, 
the  sunshine  on  her  drooping  head  : 

"  You  think  it  is  better  not  ?  Y — yes,  perhaps  it 
would  not  do — "  and  there  she  came  to  a  full  stop, 
silenced  by  the  burst  of  bitter,  incredulous  laughter 
which  greeted  her  faltering  words.  Ah,  dear  me !  was 
not  Clive  to  be  indeed  detested  for  setting  her  so  de- 
testable a  task ! 

"Wouldn't  do!"  repeated  Dick,  scornfully,  "Ha!  ha! 
ha !  So  you've  changed  your  mind  already,  have  you  ? 
Upon  my  word,  you're  of  a  prudent  nature,  my  fair 
sister.  It's  well  I  never  thought  of  taking  you  at  your 
word.  1  knew  too  well  the  worth  of  a  woman's  promise  ; 
though  I  must  say  that  it's  rather  insulting  too,  and 
there  are  not  many  men  who  would  stand  such  a  re- 
flection on  their  honor  from  a  bit  of  a  girl.  Pray, 
did  you  think — " 

"No,  Dick,  no;  of  course  not,"  stammered  poor  Kate, 
without  in  the  least  knowing  what  she  was  accused  of 
thinking.  "Indeed,  it's  not  that;  I  only  thouglit  that 
other  peo{)le  might  say  that — I  mean  that  no  one  would 
accept  such —  Oh,  Dick !  please  don't  think  I  want  to 
keep  it." 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  don't  begin  to  cry  ! "  cried  Dick, 
impatiently.     "  That  I  can't  stand.     Of  course  you  want 


78 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE PV. 


to  keep  it.     What  else  ?     You  would  have  liked  to  get  a 
cheap  name  for  generosity,  but  when  you  came  to  think — " 

"  Letter  for  you,  please,  sir,"  said  Buttons,  opening  the 
door  briskly,  and  with  a  perfect  consciousness  that  Miss 
Kate  had  whisked  round  to  the  fire  to  hide  her  tears,  and 
that  Mr.  Dick  was  walking  about  in  a  rage,  written  in 
every  prim  pucker  of  his  innocent  countenance.  Dick 
proved  the  latter  by  the  way  he  snatched  the  letter  off 
the  tray;  and  Buttons  retired  to  linger  a  minute  or  two 
on  the  mat  outside  the  drawing-room  door. 

"From  Clive!"  muttered  the  young  man.  "Why, 
what  the  deuce — "  and  then  he  tore  it  open,  and  read 
the  penciled  note  within  : 

"Dear  Bellew, — I  have  just  heard  of  a  friend  who 
will  be  willing  to  let  you  have  a  loan  of  ^500  on  your 
note-of-hand,  and  under  certain  conditions  arranged  be- 
forehand. They  are  rather  hard ;  but  unless  you  have  a 
better  offer,  I  would  advise  your  looking  in  at  my  cham- 
bers to-morrow  morning  between  ten  and  eleven  to  talk 
them  over." 

Kate  was  looking  eagerly,  questioningly  at  her  brother, 
but  her  glance  sank  before  the  triumphant  mirth  with 
which  he  turned  on  her. 

"  Well,  my  dear,  you  needn't  have  been  in  such  a  dreadful 
hurry  to  secure  your  money-bags.  I  told  you  nothing 
would  have  induced  me  to  touch  them,  but  I  just  thought 
I'd  try  how  much  worth  there  was  in  your  grand  offers. 
Ha !  Kate,  I'll  know  who  not  to  trust  to  another  time. 
Perhaps  you  wouldn't  have  been  in  such  haste  to  retract, 
if  you  had  known  that  I  never  intended  to  accept  your 
sham  generosity.  There  are  plenty  of  people  willing  to 
lend  me  twice  as  much  if  I  would  only  ask  for  it.  And 
listen  to  this — "  and  he  read  aloud  the  first  part  of  the 
letter,  ending  with  "There,  Kittie !  I  hope  you  see  other' 
people  have  more  confidence  in  your  brother  than  you. 
Where's  my  hat?  Oh,  don't  make  any  protestations; 
I'm  sick  of  talk.  What  the  deuce  have  I  done  with  my 
hat  ?  Be  so  kind  as  to  tell  my  mother  I  shan't  dine  at 
home.  I'm  going  to  the  club.  No,  I  don't  know  when 
I'll  be  back.     What  is  that  to  any  one  ?     My  family  are 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE W.  yo 

not  so  pleasant  or  agreeable  that  1  should  stay  at  home 
from  morning  till  night.  Oh  !  there's  my  hat.  What  the 
deuce  is  it  doing  there  ?  Ton  my  soul,  it  amuses  me  to 
think  you  fancied  I  ever  meant  to  accept  your  ofter." 
With  which  final  shot  exit  Master  Dick,  thinking  himself 
so  great  and  grand,  poor  boy,  in  having  humiliated  his 
young  sister,  and  utterly  unconscious  of  how  pitiably  lit- 
tle he  would  have  appeared  in  any  but  her  generous  eyes. 

These  young  men  who  snub  their  sisters,  bully  their 
mothers,  and  sneer  at  all  home  duties  and  home  aflec- 
tions,  in  the  hope  of  appearing  manly  and  dashing  in  the 
eyes  of  their  fellow-men — does  no  one  ever  stoop  to  en- 
lighten them  as  to  the  utter  «/f«manliness ;  the  contempt- 
ible pettiness  of  such  a  line  of  conduct  ?  Does  no  one 
ever  tell  them  that  the  strongest  and  bravest  men  are 
always  the  most  tender  and  unselfish  ;  that  the  greatest 
of  this  world's  conquerors  have  bowed  their  heads  at  the 
sacred  name  of  "  Mother ; "  and  that  the  God-man  himself 
has  turned  the  immutable  laws  of  creation  aside,  and 
broken  the  very  bonds  of  death,  in  pity  to  a  sister's  tears  ? 
No,  the  fact  of  it  is  that  men  worthy  of  the  name  look  on 
these  petty  manikins  with  too  vast  a  contempt,  to  care 
how  much  the  latter  expose  the  meanness  of  which  they 
think  it  "  grand  "  to  boast.  Looking  on  the  women  in 
their  families  as  precious  and  tender  things,  doubly  sacred 
from  their  helplessness,  men  have  no  pity  on  the  ephem- 
erje  who  are  almost  invarial)ly  the  curse  of  the  homes 
they  despise,  the  life-long  burden  on  the  women  they  ill 
treat. 

"When  1  hear  A talking  of  his  sisters,"  said  a  big, 

bearded  soldier,  one  of  the  heroes  of  Lucknow,  to  me  the 
other  day,  "  I  always  feel  inchned  to  pitch  the  little  cur 
out  of  the  club-window;  but  one  can't  dirty  one's  fingers 
with  such  trash,  you  know." 

Half  an  hour  later,  I  saw  A pulling  at  the  new- 
born down  on  his  upper  lij),  and  boasting  of  his  friendship 

with     Major    B .     ''Lucknow     E— — ,    you     know. 

Doosid  bore  I  can't  ask  him  to  dinner;  couldn't  intro- 
duce a  dashing  fellow  like  that  to  my  dufiers  at  home, 
you  know." 


8o  FRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 

"Ha!"   said  his  friend,  another   ephemera — "doosid 

bore !     Yas — very,"  and  went  off  to  ridicule  A 's  airs 

to  some  one  else. 

Verbum  sat. 

Kate,  however,  was  still  in  that  beautiful  age  when  life 

has    not    lost    its    illusions,    and    human    nature    is  still 

shrouded  in  idealities.     She  had  not  yet  learned  to  see 

through  people;  and,  with  the  usual  irrational  absurdity 

of  youth,  took  those  she  liked  for  as  much  better  as  those 

she   disliked   for  the  reverse  of  what   they  were.     Time 

might,   and  trouble  must,  improve  her  perceptions  ere 

long;  for 

"the  eyes,  Malvine,  that  have  pierced  the  screen, 
Are  the  tear-washed  eyes  of  pain." 

But  at  present  human  nature,  as  typified  by  a  tart,  meant 
with  her,  frosting  of  sugar  over  a  lighter  or  heavier  pastry. 
She  had  some  general  idea  of  hidden  ingredients  within ; 
but  youth  seldom  searches  beyond  the  outside.  It  is 
easier  to  imagine  than  to  realize  when  one  is  young. 
Imagination  dies  with  the  growth  of  years ;  and  then  we 
come  to  see  and  be  content  with  realities,  and  look  with 
pitying  superiority  on  the  illusions  of  those  who  are  still 
in  the  charmed  existence  out  of  which  we  have  passed. 
Ah,  my  friends!  remember  the  old  saying,  "Where  igno- 
rance is  bliss  'tis  folly  to  be  wise."  There's  a  deal  of 
truth  in  that  hackneyed  proverb,  and  believe  me,  there  is 
no  ignorance  so  blissful  as  that  which  glorifies  with  an 
ideal  halo  the  natures  and  characters  of  those  belonging 
to  us. 

When  Dick  was  gone,  Kate  cried  unrebuked,  though 
not  for  long,  as  her  horse  coming  to  the  door,  she  was 
obliged  to  get  ready  for  her  ride,  and  fresh  air  and 
brisk  exercise  soon  carry  away  the  tears  of  youth.  Early 
as  it  was  in  the  spring,  there  were  a  good  many  people  in 
the  Park,  and  she  would  almost  have  forgotten  her  annoy- 
ance and  its  cause  if,  in  returning,  she  had  not  come  sud- 
denly upon  Bernard  Clive,  in  the  act  of  assisting  a  lady, 
in  deep  but  simple  mourning,  into  a  cab  which  stood  at 
the  corner  of  Hyde  Park  Place.  His  back  was  towards 
Miss   Bellew,  therefore  he  remained  totally  unconscious 


PRE  TT  Y  MISS  BELLE  W.  8 1 

of  her  proximity ;  but,  even  in  passing,  Kate  could  not 
help  remarking  the  royal  beauty  of  the  woman's  face, 
showing  so  pale  and  fair  within  the  sorrowful  frame  of  her 
widow's  bonnet,  and  the  full  and  gracious  curves  of  her 
noble  figure.  It  was  only  a  cursory  glance;  but  Kate 
had  all  a  young  girl's  enthusiasm  for  beauty,  especially 
that  of  an  entirely  different  order  from  her  own ;  and  she 
was  struck  by  the  air  of  deference  and  courtesy  expressed 
in  Clive's  every  gesture. 

"  He  can  be  civil  .to  some  people,"  thought  Kate, 
angrily.  "  Hateful  man,  making  poor  dear  Dick  quarrel 
with  me!  I  wonder  who  she  is.  No  one  grand,  or  she 
wouldn't  go  in  a  cab ;  and  yet,  somehow,  she  looked  like 
a  duchess.  Oh,  dear !  I  hope  Dick  will  be  in  a  good 
humor  when  he  comes  home  this  evening." 

An  idle  hope ;  or,  at  least,  one  which,  whether  granted 
or  not,  mattered  little  to  Kate,  as  Dick  did  not  come 
home  till  many  hours  after  his  sister's  brown  eyes  were 
closed  in  healthy  sleep,  and  faint  whitish  streaks  were 
beginning  to  appear  in  the  eastern  horizon,  and  herald 
the  approach  of  day.  Then,  indeed,  Lady  Margaret's 
maternal  watchfulness  heard  the  latch-key  turn  in 
the  lock  below,  and  the  unsteady  step  of  her  first-born 
stumbling  as  it  passed  upstairs  to  his  own  room.  Poor 
lady  !  many  a  watchful  hour  had  Dick  given  her  before 
now ;  and  the  younger  one  wondered  at  the  composure 
with  which,  on  the  following  morning,  she  received  the 
news  that  Mr.  Dick  had  a  headache,  and  wasn't  able  to 
come  down  to  breakfast — merely  ordering  a  cup  of  very 
strong  coffee  to  be  made  and  taken  up  to  him,  with  no 
comment  beyond  a  faint  expression  of  annoyance  on  the 
news.  Kate,  with  the  egotism  of  youth,  ])Ut  down  Dick's 
headache  and  non-appearance  to  the  ill-usage  he  was 
laboring  under  from  herself  in  particular  and  the  family 
in  general ;  but  Lady  Margaret  knew  better,  and  when 
her  son  made  his  appearance  for  a  moment,  before  going 
to  his  friend's  chambers — pale,  hollow-eyed,  and  nervous, 
with  shaky  hands  and  irritable  brow — the  mother  met  his 
complaints   with   a   lack    of   outward    sympathy    which 


82  Pii^  TTY  MISS  BELLE  VK 

shocked  Kate,  who  was  keeping  in  the  background  till 
forgiven. 

"This  sort  of  thing  will  never  do,  Dick,"  she  said, 
with  an  air  of  aggravation  which  puzzled  her  daughter 
— "even  if  you  were  only  killing  yourself;  but  the  ex- 
ample— I  am  thankful  Tom  isn't  at  home."  And  Uick 
shrugged  his  shoulders  petti-shly,  and  went  out  with 
some  mumbling  remark  about  "lecturings,"  which  Kate 
tried  to  excuse,  as  mother  was  a  little  bit  hard.  She  was 
often  up  awfully  late  at  balls,  and  .had  a  headache,  and 
didn't  come  down  till  late  in  the  morning,  without  being 
blamed  for  it  the  least  bit  in  the  world ;  and  now  he  was 
gone  without  looking  at  her,  so  that  she  did  not  know 
whether  she  were  forgiven  or  not. 

Evening  decided  in  the  negative.  Dick  did  not  come 
home  to  dinner;  and  when  he  made  his  appearance  at 
tea-time,  it  was  in  company  with  Clive,  upon  whom 
Lady  Margaret  at  once  seized  for  a  confidential  talk, 
during  which  Kate  had  leisure  to  find  out  that  her 
brother  was  even  more  thoroughly  out  of  sorts  than 
before,  and  disposed  to  snub  her  most  ingratiating  ad- 
vances. Madge  and  he  had  already  had  words  on 
account  of  a  cuff  bestowed  on  George,  whom  the 
younger  girl  considered  as  her  own  special  property 
to  quarrel  with  and  protect,  so  that  those  two  juveniles 
had  retired  to  spend  the  evening  roasting  chestnuts  in 
the  schoolroom;  and  Kate,  finding  that  Eve  was,  as 
usual,  too  much  absorbed  in  a  book  for  gossip,  retreated 
to  the  piano,  in  hopes  that  some  of  Dick's  favorite  music 
might  have  a  soothing  effect  on  his  nerves  and  temper. 

She  was  anything  but  pleased  when,  after  about  ten 
minutes  of  solitude,  some  one  sauntered  under  the  arch, 
and  behold  it  was  not  Dick,  but  the  young  barrister. 

"Am  I  interrupting  you  ?"  said  Clive,  with  that  half- 
smile  which  Kate  hated  on  his  face,  and  which  seemed 
to  say,  "  I  know  you  detest  me,  but  I  don't  care  in  the 
least." 

Aloud  he  said  in  addition  : 

"I  thought  you  might  like  to  hear  what  has  been 
settled  about  your  brother's  affairs." 


PRE  TTY  MISS  BELLE  IV.  85 

"Thank  you,"  said  Kate,  who  was  indeed  longing  to 
know,  though  not  from  him,  "  I  dare  say  my  mother  or 
Dick  will  tell  me  all  about  it  to-night ;  we  always  talk 
over  family  things  when  we  are  alone.  Has  it  not  been 
a  lovely  day  ?  " 

"  Very  lovely,"  replied  Clive,  the  smile  a  little  more  vis- 
ible— she  positively  seemed  to  amuse  him! — "and  the 
night  is  still  more  so — too  fine  altogether  to  be  wasted  in- 
doors, wherefore  I  am  come  to  bid  you  good  night,  and 
leave  you  to  your  family  chat." 

"Good  night,"  said  Kate,  rather  unwarrantably  morti- 
fied; and  then  she  remembered  that  Dick  had  accused 
her  of  being  rude  to  his  friend,  and  driving  him  out  of 
the  house.  Was  she  doing  so  now  ?  Her  cheeks  flamed 
up  at  the  idea. 

"  But  it  is  very  early,"  she  said,  trying  not  to  speak 
stiffly,  and  hoping  Dick  heard  and  approved,  "  and  the 
night  will  keep.  Are  you  tired  of  us  that  you  hurry 
away  so  soon  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  the  least  tired  of  you,"  said  Clive,  "  not 
having  had  sufficient  opportunity — as  yet ;  but  '  preven- 
tion is  better  than  cure,'  you  know,  so —  However,  I  really 
want  to  speak  to  you  for  one  minute,  so,  if  you  will  try  to 
endure  me  for  so  long,  and  not  leave  oft"  your  playing,  I 
will  do  so." 

"  About  Dick  again  ?  "  asked  Kate,  with  a  quick  nerv- 
ous thrill,  producing  quite  a  little  peal  of  false  notes,  and 
which  made  her  brother  exclaim  in  horror  from  his  easy- 
chair. 

"No,"  said  Clive,  gravely,  "except  that  I  know  you 
have  kept  your  word — at  some  cost,  I  am  afraid." 

Kate's  color  rose  again.  The  treacherous  color  always 
would  come  and  go,  in  her  fair  young  skin,  in  that  un- 
pleasant way. 

"At  what  cost?"  she  asked,  proudly.  "I  don't  quite 
know  what  you  mean.  Of  course  1  did  as  I  promised. 
I  don't  know  if  I  was  wise — " 

"It  is  always  wise  to  take  advice  from  people  who  do 
know,"  said  Clive,  calmly.  "  But  what  I  want  to  ask 
you  now  is  something  quite  difterent.  You  know  Lady 
Vanborough,  1  believe?" 


84  PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 

"  Bee  Vanbor "  began  Kate,  then  checking  herself 

quickly — "  you  mean  the  younger  Lady  Vanborough, 
don't  you  ?  Sir  Alec's  widow — she  is  one  of  my  greatest 
friends." 

"Then  I  am  afraid  you  could  not  give  me  a  good  idea 
of  what  she  is  like,  as  young  ladies'  friendships  are  some- 
tmaes  like  love — blind  !  " 

"Then  you  had  better  not  ask  me,"  retorted  Kate, 
wickedly. 

"I  would  not,  if  I  were  not  curious  to  hear  what  you 
would  say.  I  know  Lady  Vanborough,  and  I  think  her 
a  lively,  well-informed,  very  pleasant,  and  very  eccentric 
woman.  There !  you  see  I  am  candor  itself  with  you. 
Also  I  believe  she  is  good-natured,  or  at  any  rate  good- 
tempered.     Can  you  confirm  that  opinion  ?  " 

"  I  don't  see  why  you  should  want  to  know,"  said 
Kate;  "if  I  didn't  answer,  however,  I  suppose  you 
would  think  I  meant  'No;  '  and  you  would  be  wrong, 
quite  wrong.  I  never  knew  anybody  kinder  or  better; 
and  I  was  a  little  girl  at  school  when  she  was  a  big  one, 
so  I  ought  to  know." 

"Decidedly  you  ought,"  said  Clive.  "There  is  no 
better  place  than  school  for  bringing  out  the  character  of 
either  a  man  or  woman.  And  so  you  really  like  her  ? 
Well,  I  agree  with  you." 

"  Do  you  ?  "  said  Kate,  a  little  satirically. 

"And  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  your  opinion." 

"  Why  ?  " 

"  Oh !  because  I  made  a  bet  that  one  woman  could 
praise  another  without  a  single  'but,'  (always  provided 
that  the  latter  were  ten  years  older  than  herself,  and  not 
likely  to  cross  her  path  in  any  way).  You  see  you  have 
won  me  my  bet.  Good  evening  " — with  which  Clive  de- 
parted as  imperturbable  as  usual,  and  leaving  Kate  fuming 
because  she  knew  that  he  had  not  given  her  a  shadow  of 
his  real  reason,  and  was  equally  aware  of,  and  indifferent 
to,  her  knowledge  of  that  fact. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

BERNARD  CLIVE. 

BERNARD  CLIVE  had  had  a  hard  Hfe,  and  it  had 
tended  to  make  him  to  all  appearance,  and  certainly 
to  his  own  belief,  a  hard  man.  His  father,  a  country  rec- 
tor, had  from  the  day  of  his  wife's  death  concentrated  his 
whole  affections  on  one  child,  the  baby  whose  birth  had 
cost  its  mother's  life ;  and  who,  after  growing  up  into  a 
delicate,  handsome  boy,  wayward  and  winning,  and 
spoiled  by  father,  brothers  and  sisters,  had  gone  to  col- 
lege, got  into  trouble,  drifted  from  bad  to  worse,  and  died 
a  miserable  death  before  his  twentieth  birthday  in  the 
quaint,  secluded  home,  whose  happiness  he  had  destroyed 
from  the  first  hour  of  his  wasted  life.  It  wms  Bernard 
who  had  followed  him  through  his  evil  courses,  trying 
with  patient  brotherly  kindness  to  lead  him  from  them  ; 
but  Bernard  had  always  given  way  to  little  Cyril  in  their 
childish  days,  and  it  was  not  likely  Cyril  would  give  way 
to  him  now,  until  it  was  too  late  for  amendment ;  and 
when  his  brother  brought  him  home,  it  was  not  to  begin 
a  new  life  in  this  world,  but  to  pass  the  last  few  weeks  of 
existence  in  seeking  for  a  better  "length  of  days,  even 
life  eternal,"  in  the  world  to  come. 

It  was  Bernard  then  who  devoted  himself  to  watching 
over  the  second  boy's  career,  and  who  gave  up  the  pro- 
fession of  his  heart,  and  all  the  amusements  natural  to  his 
age,  for  slaving  to  get  a  double  lirst,  and,  having  got  it, 
to  enter  himself  for  the  Bar,  because  his  father  wished  it 
— the  father  who  now  clung  more  to  the  presence  of  the 

8S 


86  PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 

second  son,  who  had  done  nothing  for  him,  than  to  the 
elder,  who  did  all ;  but  Philip  had  Cyril's  eyes  and  Cyril's 
impetuous  voice,  and  Bernard  was  like  no  one  but  a  de- 
ceased uncle  with  whom  old  Mr.  Clive  had  had  a  life-long 
feud.  He  would  call  Philip  to  him  and  pat  his  shoulder, 
and  take  his  arm  out  walking,  while  he  merely  greeted 
Bernard  with  a  nod,  and  spoke  to  him  in  his  shortest  man- 
ner; and  Bernard  kept  out  of  his  way,  putting  Philip  for- 
ward on  all  possible  occasions,  and  yet  doing  many  a  lit- 
tle thing  for  his  father  which  the  other  was  supposed  to 
have  done,  and  got  the  credit  for. 

He  used  to  say  quite  coolly,  and  as  a  matter  of  course, 
"  The  governor  likes  better  to  see  Philip  about  him  ; " 
and  no  one  in  the  family  grieved  more  heartily  than 
Bernard  when,  just  before  Philip  left  Oxford,  the  rector, 
whose  eyes  had  long  been  failing,  lost  the  sight  of  them 
altogether,  and  was  thus  shut  out  from  the  view  of  that 
face  which  had  grown  so  dear  to  him.  His  daughter, 
who  came  next  to  Bernard,  was  married  already ;  but 
her  husband  had  died  in  the  first  year  of  their  wedded 
life :  died  of  softening  of  the  brain,  a  malady  so  terrible 
that,  but  for  her  elder  brother's  aid  and  sympathy,  her 
own  mind  might  have  given  way  under  the  strain.  He 
brought  her  home  too,  after  all  was  over;  and  shortly 
afterwards  Philip  took  orders,  and  returned  to  Wood- 
leigh  as  his  father's  curate. 

"  My  right  hand  and  my  eyes,"  the  old  man  would 
say,  fondly.  "Bernard  is  a  clever  man,  they  tell  me; 
but  he's  away  in  London  doing  for  himself,  and  prosper- 
ing finely;  and  I  should  be  lost  without  Philip.  Fancy 
the  dear  lad  consenting  to  live  here  with  his  allowance 
for  a  salary,  buried  in  a  country  place  when  he  might  be 
a  fashionable,  well-paid  preacher  elsewhere — and  for  my 
sake !  But  Phil  had  always  Cyril's  eyes,  and  his  was 
a  tender  heart  through  all." 

Mr.  Clive  never  guessed  that  it  was  Bernard  who  had 
persuaded  Philip  into  the  sacrifice,  and  had  used  his  own 
prosperity  to  augment  his  brother's  allowance  to  the  rate 
of  a  very  fair  salary,  frequently  denying  himself  even 
necessary  comforts  and  indulgences  to  add  to  those  of 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV.  gj 

the  family  at  home.  Philip  knew  it,  and  so  did  Harriet 
(Mrs.  Barnard),  who  often  received  crisp  bank-notes  for 
ten  and  twenty  pounds  from  her  brother;  but  with  a 
peculiar  shy  reserve  w^hich,  springing  from  being  under- 
valued, had  been  his  burden  through  life,  he  had  begged 
that  his  father  might  not  be  told;  and  his  request  was 
scrupulously  complied  with. 

"It  is  a  real  pleasure  to  my  father  to  receive  anything 
from  you,  Phil,"  he  said  to  his  brother;  "it  w^ould  not  be 
so  from  me;"  and  the  curate  acquiesced. 

It  had  grown  to  be  a  family  matter  of  course  that  Ber- 
nard was  no  favorite.  "A  dry,  cold,  taciturn  sort  of 
fellow  like  him  did  not  care  about  that  sort  of  thing." 
Some  people  must  get  the  kicks  and  some  the  halfpence 
in  life.  Philip  got  the  halfpence,  and  Bernard  loved  him 
well  enough  to  be  content  with  the  kicks :  loved  them 
all  well  enough  to  be  glad  to  drink  beer  instead  of  wine, 
and  see  Harriet  driving  her  now  infirm  father  in  a  little 
pony-carriage — his  gift — and  deny  himself  an  autumn 
tour,  that  Harriet's  one  little  girl  might  be  sent  to  an  ex- 
pensive school  at  Brighton.  Mrs.  Barnard  had  been  left 
badly  off  in  consequence  of  the  legal  inability  of  her 
hu.sband  to  make  a  will  during  the  last  months  of  his  life. 
He  had  made  one  some  years  before  his  marriage,  leaving 
the  bulk  of  his  property  among  relations  of  his  own ;  and 
on  that  will  they  acted,  leaving  Harriet  with  little  more 
than  had  been  secured  to  her  in  the  marriage  settlements 
for  herself  and  her  child.  It  was  an  iniquitous  affair,  but 
even  Bernard's  law  practice  failed  in  giving  his  sister  the 
victory.  He  did  the  best  he  could  for  her  instead  ;  and 
Harriet  thought  him  surly  and  unsympathetic  because, 
when  she  abused  her  husband's  relations  with  feminine 
warmth  and  vehemence,  he  merely  shrugged  his  shoulders 
with  the  sarcastic  observation  : 

"  Merely  the  way  of  the  world,  my  dear.  Don't  ex- 
cite yourself,  and  don't  put  your  faith  in  relations  in 
future/' 

"  Bernard  !  how  can  you  !  "  cried  his  sister,  indignantly. 
"  I  am  sure  there  are  no  other  relations  who  could  behave 
so  shamefully,  so  meanly,  so — " 


88  PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 

"Are  you?"  said  Bernard,  coolly;  "I'm  not.  If  you 
take  my  advice,  Harry,  you'll  never  be  sure  of  any  one, 
unless  it  happens  to  be  his  own  interest  to  further  yours. 
Otherwise,  '  give  one  hand  to  your  friend,  and  keep  the 
other  on  your  revolver,'    as  the  Californians  say." 

"Living  in  London  has  certainly  not  improved  your 
morals,  Bernard,"  said  Harriet,  severely.  "If  you  prac- 
tice as  you  preach,  you  must  trust  very  few  people." 

"I  trust  no  one  till  1  have  proved  him,"  Bernard 
answered,  in  his  hardest  tone,  "and  even  then  my  trust  is 
accompanied  with  a  prayer — '  May  the  second  temptation 
be  no  greater  than  the  first.'" 

"And  yet  you  expect  people  to  believe  in  you,  I  sup- 
pose?" 

"By  no  means — unless,  as  with  my  clients,  my  inter- 
ests and  theirs  run  in  the  same  groove.  It  is  perhaps 
well  for  you  that  they  do  in  your  case." 

"  I  don't  believe  you,  Bernard  !  "  cried  his  sister ;  "  you 
mayn't  be  very  passionately  attached  to  any  one,  but  I 
don't  believe  you  would  ever  do  an  unkind  turn  to  me,  or 
Minie,  even  if  it  were  for  your  interest — horrid  word  !" 

Bernard  stooped  and  kissed  her,  laughing.  He  was 
not  given  to  caresses;  but  even  that  shred  of  justice 
moved  his  gratitude.  It  was  something  to  be  told  by 
those  to  whom  he  devoted  himself  that  they  did  not 
think  he  would  rob  them.  Some  minds  are  obliged  to  be 
contented  with  small  favors. 

Philip  had  been  the  trouble  of  late.  His  disposition 
was  not  very  unlike  Cyril's;  though  his  life  had  as  yet 
been  as  exemplary  as  his  brother's  had  been  the  reverse ; 
and  though,  in  addition  to  the  latter's  passionate,  impuls- 
ive character,  he  shared  Bernard's  obstinacy  and  deter- 
mination of  will.  The  Clives  were  descended  from  some 
of  the  bluest  blood  in  England,  and,  like  many  people 
whose  means  are  not  commensurate  with  their  station, 
were  intensely  proud  of  it ;  wherefore,  it  was,  of  course, 
necessary  that  if  Philip  married — as  was  very  likely,  he 
being  peculiarly  sensitive  to  feminine  grace  and  beauty  of 
a  refined  type — his  choice  should  rest  on  some  one  as 
well   dowered   in   point    of   birth  as  of    worldly  means. 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE W.  89 

Both  Bernard  and  Harriet  had  been  secretly  anxious 
on  this  subject  of  late  :  the  former,  lest  Philip  should  go 
and  fall  in  love  with  some  penniless  girl — "When,  of 
course,  they  would  have  a  dozen  children  at  once,  and  I 
should  have  to  keep  them,"  thought  Bernard ;  the  latter, 
lest  PhiHp  should  fix  on  a  wife  among  the  middle-class 
young  ladies  in  the  httle  country  town  nearest  to  Wood- 
ieigh — "  Some  one  whom  one  would  never  dream  of  vis- 
iting," said  Mrs.  Barnard,  with  a  little  shiver  of  dismay, 
when  she  discussed  the  subject  with  her  father,  Philip 
being  out  among  the  poor. 

"No  fear,  my  love,  no  fear!"  the  old  gentleman  an- 
swered, confidently.  "If  it  were  Bernard,  indeed— -a 
queer  fellow  always,  and  too  much  like  your  Uncle  Wil- 
liam for  me  to  fathom — but  Phil  will  never  disappoint  us. 
Wait  awhile,  Harry,  my  dear,  and  you'll  see  that  he's  as 
particular  as  we  could  be;  there's  time  enough." 

But  Harriet  had  not  to  wait  long ;  the  time  was  near 

at  hand. 

At  the  bottom  of  the  rectory-garden  stood  a  small  cot- 
tage smothered  in  jessamine,  and  originally  built  for  some 
particular  curate  belonging  to  a  previous  rector.  Mr. 
Clive,  having  no  private  fortune  of  his  own,  had  not  been 
able  to  keep  a  curate ;  and  during  the  boys'  school  and 
college  days,  the  cottage  had  been  let  to  an  elderly  female 
cousin.  Unibrtunately,  just  as  Mr.  Clive's  blindness  was 
coming  on,  this  good  lady  found  out  that  the  cottage 
must  be  damp.  In  one  room,  where  she  had  not  been 
during  nine  of  the  thirteen  years  of  her  residence  there, 
she  found  blue  mould  on  the  paper,  and  stains  of  moisture 
most  distressingly  evident  upon  the  ceiling.  On  the 
strength  of  this,  she  took  to  bed  with  a  bad  cold;  and  on 
the  strength  of  that  cold,  she  died  some  four  months 
later,  declaring  with  her  last  breath — she  being  then  some 
ninety  odd  years  of  age — that  it  was  the  damp  of  the 
cottage  which  had  killed  her.  Harriet  wrote  up  to  Ber- 
nard at  once,  begging  him  to  find  a  new  tenant  for  them. 

"  Either  a  relation  or  a  friend,  if  you  possibly  can,  dear 
Bernard.  Remember,  the  cottage  opens  i>ito  our  garden, 
so  that  whoever  lives  there  must  be  almost  one  with  us. 


9° 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE W. 


You  know  my  dear  father's  extreme  exclusiveness,  and 
how  entirely  I  share  it ;  so  I  need  not  ask  you  to  be  more 
than  careful  in  your  choice  of  a  tenant ;  and  you  are 
aware  that  at  present  it  is  impossible  for  us  to  afford  any 
alterations  in  the  garden  which  would  at  all  cut  off  the 
cottage  from  us,  in  case  the  people  there  being  undesira- 
ble for  inmates." 

Bernard  was  aware  of  both  facts.  A  couple  of  weeks 
later  he  wrote : 

.  "I  have  just  heard  of  a  likely  tenant  for  the  cottage 
from  our  cousin,  Canon  Digby.  A  widow  lady,  with  an 
invalid  relation,  has  been  boarding  with  his  brother-in- 
law.  Dr.  Dunn,  at  Hastings.  The  winds  there,  and  the 
noise  of  a  family,  are  too  much  for  the  invalid  lady,  and 
they  are  anxious  to  find  a  quiet  little  cottage  in  a  pretty 
country  place.  Both  Canon  Digby  and  his  brother-in- 
law  speak  in  more  than  high  terms  of  both  ladies,  the 
widow  especially.  She  is  still  in  her  first  weeds,  middle- 
aged,  somewhat  reserved  and  exclusive,  but  dignified, 
graceful,  and  refined  enough  to  win  respect  and  attention 
from  every  one.  The  Canon  is  sure  you  would  be 
charmed  with  her.  However,  as  she  seems  to  the  full  as 
particular  as  you  are,  perhaps  a  personal  interview  would 
be  best  before  deciding  anything.  To  this  end  I  have 
suggested  that  the  widow  lady  should  go  down  to  Wood- 
leigh,  see  the  cottage,  and  pay  you  a  visit." 

This  suggestion  was  carried  out,  and  with  such  effect 
on  both  Mrs.  Barnard  and  the  visitor,  that  before  another 
fortnight  the  two  strange  ladies  were  comfortably  estab- 
lished at  the  cottage. 

"  My  poor  cousin.  Miss  Hyacinth  de  Vaux,  said  it  was 
damp,"  said  Mrs.  Barnard,  while  going  round  the  little 
tenement  with  her  widowed  lodger.  "  But  considering 
that  she  was  ninety-five,  poor  dear,  and  had  lived  thirteen 
years  here  without  ever  using  this  room,  I  do  think  imag- 
ination had  something  to  do  with  it." 

"  It  looks  to  me  as  dry  and  pretty  and  sunshiny  as  a 
house  well  could  be ;  and  I  am  sure  the  quiet  and  coun- 
try air  will  agree  with  my  poor  relative,"  answered  the 
other  lady,  in  the  full  gracious  tones  which  had  taken 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE  W.  91 

Mrs.  Barnard's  fancy  from  the  first.  "We  will  certainly 
seek  no  further." 

And  she  who  spoke  was  the  stranger  we  have  already 
met  in  Alma  Terrace — the  object  of  Mrs.  Spinks's  virtu- 
ous suspicions — Mrs.  Grey. 

Harriet,  the  ultra-exclusive,  had  set  a  dangerous  exam- 
ple in  yielding  to  the  fascination  of  a  voice  and  manner 
exceptionally  refined.     Philip  followed  it. 


CHAPTER  X. 

NOTHING    TO    WEAR. 

THERE  was  to  be  a  grand  ball  at  No.  4,  Gresham 
Square,  the  De  Ponsonbys'  family  mansion,  and  Mrs. 
De  Ponsonby  was  eloquent  in  lamenting  the  inconvenience 
thereof.  If  Petre — the  son  and  heir  of  the  family  was 
called  Petre,  a  name  which  looked  well  enough  on  paper, 
but  which  was  a  perpetual  mortification  to  the  tongue: 
for  how  distinguish  it  from  the  plebeian  P-e-t-e-r  of  the 
small  shop-ocracy? — if  Petre,  I  say,  had  but  conde- 
.  scended  to  be  born  in  May  or  June,  then  a  ball  would 
have  come  in  as  an  acceptable  addition  to  the  other  fes- 
tivities of  the  season ;  or  had  the  happy  event  occurred 
in  winter,  its  twenty-first  anniversary  might  have  been 
celebrated  with  becoming  pomp  and  Christmas  festivity 
at  his  grandfather's  country  seat  in  Warwickshire;  but 
to  come  of  age  in  Lent,  just  at  the  end  of  Lent  too, 
when,  of  the  few  people  who  were  in  town,  some  were 
on  the  eve  of  rushing  away  for  the  Easter  peep  at  green 
things,  and  the  others  ("some  of  the  very  nicest  too,"  as 
Mrs.  De  Ponsonby  said,  with  a  sigh  of  ill-usage)  replied 
to  their  cards  of  invitation  with  the  civilest  regrets,  but 
they  NEVER  (doubly  underlined)  went  into  any  gaieties 
in  Lent:  dancing  in  seasons  of  the  Church's  mourning 
being  against  their  principles.     It  was  too  bad  ! 

"  And  if  they  would  only  come,  and  7iot  dance  !  "  poor 
Mrs.  De  Ponsonby  exclaimed,  in  accents  of  despair. 
"  Principles  are  all  very  well,  but  really  in  such  a  case  as 
this — such  a  very  exceptional  case,"  —  and  indeed  the 
good  lady  felt  additionally  injured  from  the  fact  that  she 
92 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 


93 


had  been  forced  to  abrogate  her  very  strongest  principles 
of  exclusiveness,  and  invite  all  sorts  of  people,  even  poor 
relations  and  subalterns'  wives  and  families,  to  form  the 
padding  of  her  otherwise  almost  naked  rooms.  It  was  a 
veritable  case  of  "going  out  into  the  highways  and  by- 
ways," and  I  am  afraid  the  general's  wife  regarded  her 
last-invited  guests  very  much  as  the  "lame,  the  halt,  and 
the  blind  "  mentioned  in  the  parable.  They  would  have 
been  gratified  had  thev  known  !  but  isn't  it  a  comfort  to 
think  that  we  don't  often  know  how  we  are  considered  by 
the  friends  who  greet  our  entry  into  their  ball-rooms  with 
smiles  and  pretty  speeches,  and  then  turn  aside  to  wonder 
who  on  earth  we  are !  The  gift  of  the  diable  boiteux  is 
not  to  my  mind  an  enviable  one.  The  emerald  that  "by 
its  paling  or  flashing  hue  s^^eaks  if  my  best-beloved  be 
false  or  true"  would  be  to  me  the  most  unacceptable  of 
gifts.  In  fact,  I  should  return  it  with  thanks,  and  the 
parcel  prepaid,  that  I  might  not  be  burdened  with  it.  Is 
it  not  bad  enough  that  my  "best-loved"  should  be  false 
without  my  being  aware  of  her  falsehood  ?  I  shall  find 
it  out  soon  enough,  without  the  presence  of  an  intrusive 
emerald  to  rob  me  of  my  brief  and  happy  delusion.  It 
is  a  pleasure  to  be  deluded  in  some  cases,  and  why  should 
I  be  robbed  of  it  ?  Will  any  one  quarrel  with  me  because 
when  pretty  Mrs.  A.  greets  me  with  "Oh,  my  dear  G., 
how  good  of  you  to  come  to  me  this  afternoon  !  I  am  so 
charmed  to  see  you,"  I  choose  to  accept  the  greeting  as 
gospel,  believe  that  I  am  very  good  for  coming  (though 
I  only  just  lookeil  in  because  I  wanted  to  glance  at  the 
Saturday,  which  A.  takes  in,  and  I  don't),  and  feel  per- 
suaded that  my  hostess  is  charmed  to  see  me,  though  she 
had  forgotten  my  name  till  she  glanced  down  at  the  card 
her  footman  handed  her,  and  forgot  my  existence  the 
moment  after  I  had  drifted  among  the  crowd  ? 

"Then,  in  fact,  you  like  to  be  humbugged,"  says  Mr. 
Byle  Sours,  on  reading  this.  Yes,  my  dear  sir,  if  it  will 
save  the  "  wearyfu'  "  arguments  I  sec  written  on  your 
long  and  yellow  visage,  let  me  cut  the  Gordian  knot  at 
once,  and  say  that,  if  accepting  a  gift  at  whatever  title  it 
be  labeled  wiili  outside  is  being  humbugged,  then  I  do 


94  PRETTY  MISS  BE LLEVV. 

like  it  decidedly.  When  I  am  enjoying  the  delicious 
flavor  of  a  prime  "home-fed"  turkey,  a  present  from  the 
country,  it  is  no  pleasure  to  me  to  be  shown  the  ticket  of 
a  London  tradesman  which  has  been  found  dangling  from 
the  wretched  bird's  leg.  If  Georgina  bestows  upon  me 
one  shining  ringlet  from  those  golden  tresses  I  so  ar- 
dently admire,  I  do  not  thank  her  loving  cousin  Amy  for 
informing  me  that  the  precious  curl  had  only  formed  part 
of  a  Bond  street  chevelure.  As  a  disinterested  observer, 
indeed,  I  might  rather  praise  Georgina's  common  sense 
in  preferring  to  sacrifice  a  thing  which  can  be  replaced 
for  a  few  shillings,  to  one  which  will  only  reproduce  itself 
at  the  slow  progress  of  most  of  Nature's  handiwork,  ex- 
hausted in  this  case  by  Auricomus  and  other  washes  \  but 
under  the  circumstances  I  prsfer  to  remain  in  ignorance, 
to  be — humbugged,  if  you  will,  and  happy  in  my  hum- 
bugging. 

V)o  you  always  mean  every  identical  letter  of  what  you 
say,  oh,  Pharisaical  Byle  Sours?  and  yet  would  you  love 
the  individual  who  constituted  himself  analyzer  and  trans- 
lator of  all  your  civil  speeches  ?  Go  to,  I  say !  It  is 
well  to  look  at  the  red  side  of  the  leaf,  and  leave  the 
brown  unguessed.  So  shall  we  be  pleased  with  ourselves 
and  our  neighbors  alike,  and  carry  an  unwrinkled  brow 
to  the  grave. 

"Yes,"  said  Kate,  "Mrs.  de  Ponsonby  might  well  feel 
injured.  Fasting  is  all  very  well  and  right,  but  when  you 
compare  the  forty  days  in  the  desert  with  the'solemn  and 
never-to-occur-again  event  of  Petre's  coming  of  age — 
mamma,  don't  look  shocked  at  me.  I  was  only  alluding 
to  the  Baptist." 

I  have  already  said  that  Kate  had  a  slight  and  repre- 
hensible tendency  to  satire ;  and  although  she  restrained 
this  speech  till  after  Mrs.  de  Ponsonby  had  taken  her  de- 
parture, it  is  pleasing  to  know  that  Lady  Margaret  did 
look  shocked,  and  took  up  her  daughter  on  the  instant. 

"Kate,  for  shame!  Don't  be  irreverent.  It  is  incon- 
venient giving  a  ball  just  now,  and  I'm  sure  I  am  very 
sorry  for  them." 

"Why  do  they  do  it,  then  .?"  said  Kate,  with  the  ready 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV.  95 

impertinence  of  youth.  "Can't  Petre  become  twenty- 
one  without  all  the  world  being  advertised  of  the  fact? 
Will  any  one  of  the  people  who  go  care  a  button  whether 
it's  his  birthday  or  not  ?  and  such  a  silly,  stammering 
boy,  too,  blushing  worse  than  that  Mr.  Philpots  when  one 
speaks  to  him,"  cried  this  impatient  young  lady.  "We 
didn't  give  a  ball  when  Dick  came  of  age." 

"I  should  think  not,"  said  Lady  Margaret,  with  a 
shiver,  "If  Dick  were  only  half  as  steady  as  Petre! 
But  he  has  left  me  no  money  for  balls  or  anything  else. 
No  one  can  help  a  stammer,  but  there  are  much  worse 
things — " 

"Now,  mother,"  cried  Kate,  "you  don't  mean  to  say 
that  you'd  rather  have  that  stiff,  clumsy  Petre,  with  his 
stammer,  than  poor  darling  Dick,  who  can  cure  himself? 
By  the  way" — with  a  sudden  change  of  subject  for  a  still 
more  interesting  one — "I  must  have  a  new  dress.  I've 
nothing  to  wear — positively  nothing — and  did  you  notice 
that  one  at  Peter  Robinson's — sea-green  tulle  bouffante 
up  to  the  waist,  and  with  a  cloud  of  tulle  thrown  over  it, 
just  looped  back  with  a  long  trail  of  daisies  and  prim- 
roses. It  was — oh  !  too  exquisite — the  very  thing  if  I 
were  a  blonde;  but  if  I  had  something  like  it  in  mauve, 
with—" 

"Are  you  sure  you  have  nothing  that  will  do?"  broke 
in  Lady  Margaret.  "You  had  a  new  dress  for  Lady 
Gore's  dance.  I  declare  I  don't  know  what  to  do  when 
the  bills  come  in." 

"  It  is  a  great  bother,"  said  Kate,  laying  her  pretty 
head  sympathetically  against  her  mother's  knee,  and  turn- 
ing up  her  face  for  a  kiss,  "but —  Oh,  no,  none  of  them 
would  do;  and  I  did  wear  the  one  you  mean  again,  just 
before  Christmas,  and  got  it  frightfully  torn.  Don't 
you  remember  ?  And  anyhow  one  must  have  a  new 
dress  for  a  grand  affliir  like  this.  Every  one  else  will,  you 
know" — an  unanswerable  argument,  before  which  Lady 
Margaret  yielded,  as  she  always  did  to  Dick's  pleadings, 
sighing  but  silenced. 

"Of  course  I  don't  want  you  to  look  worse  than  other 
girls,"  she  said,  sadly,  her  mind  reverting  to  the  end  and 


96 


PRETTY  M/SS  BELLEW. 


aim  of  all  feminine  adornments,  that  final  parure  before 
the  altar-rails  at  St.  George's ;  and  Kate  broke  into  a 
merry  laugh,  and  said  the  thought  out  in  her  own  auda- 
cious way. 

"Of  course  not,  mamma.  How  are  you  ever  to  get 
me  off  (isn't  that  the  right  expression  ?)  unless  you  get 
me  up  fittingly  ?  All  the  big  Bashaws  would  turn  away 
from  my  ragged  garb  in  horror,  and  I  should  be  left  a 
wall-flower  in  my  teens.  King  Cophetuas  don't  look  at 
beggar-maids  now-a-days,  mammy  dear,  I  can  assure 
you  ;  and  you  know  my  Bashaw  must  be  an  extra  big  one, 
able  to  set  Dick  swimming,  and  take  the  whole  family — 
By  the  way,  after  all  I  am  not  sure  about  lilac  being  a 
good  color.  It  doesn't  light  up  nearly  as  well  as  green ; 
but  then  I  am  rather  dark  for  green,  and  I'm  not  dark 
enough  for  maize.  What  a  hateful  person  I  am  !  I  don't 
know  any  one  so  horribly  difficult  to  dress  if  one  even 
thinks  of  anything  but  white!"  and  Kate  puckered  up 
her  brow,  and  almost  stamped  her  small  foot,  in  hearty 
disgust  for  her  own  unmanageable  appearance.  Said 
Lady  Margaret,  soothingly : 

"Don't  think  about  it,  dear;  but  order  the  fly,  and  we 
will  go  to  Madame  Clarice  at  once." 

She  sighed  again,  poor  hard-up  mother!  as  she  spoke; 
and  yet  she  never  thought  of  urging  the  economy  which 
she  knew  was  becoming  positively  necessary ;  and  Kate, 
who  would  have  parted  with  all  her  little  fortune  to  her 
brother,  and  been  glad  of  so  doing,  dreamed  as  little  of 
the  possibility  of  going  without  a  new  dress  when  she  was 
tired  of  her  old  ones,  as  of  going  without  her  dinner  when 
she  was  hungry.  Why  should  the  idea  occur  to  her 
when  nothing  had  ever  suggested  it  ? 

Later  in  the  evening  she  was  describing  the  dress  she 
had  fixed  on  to  Dick,  and  enhancing  on  the  sweep  of  the 
train  and  arrangement  of  the  flowers,  with  an  animation 
which  made  Clive  (he  was  always  there  now,  Kate  said) 
observe,  in  his  driest  manner: 

"  I  never  appreciated  till  now  the  importance  of  dress. 
What  a  wonderful  thing  it  is  !  The  construction  of  a  new- 
ministry  seems  nothing  to  that  of  a  lady's  'polonaise.'" 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE W.  gy 

"Fancy  you  knowing  the  correct  name!"  said  Kate, 
good-humoredly  ;  "but  it  is  a  wonderful  tiresome  thing  if 
you  like,  especially  if  you  are  not  a  blonde,"  and  her  face 
took  a  pensive  shade  as  she  thought  of  the  green  dress 
aforementioned.  "It  is  so  difficult  to  decide,"  she  went 
on.  "I  have  not  ordered  it  yet;  but  I  think — don't  you 
mamma  ? — that  the  one  1  was  describing  to  Dick  was  the 
nicest." 

"It  was  frightfully  expensive,"  said  Lady  Margaret, 
"frightfully.  I  can't  think  w^here  Madame  Clarice  gets 
her  conscience.  Twelve  guineas  for  a  dress  which  will 
only  look  fresh  for  one  evening!  You  will  ruin  me, 
Katie." 

"Why,  you  dear  old  darling!"  cried  Kate,  putting  a 
white  hand  on  either  of  her  mother's  shoulders,  "  you 
wouldn't  like  me  to  go  in  a  dressing-gown,  and  I  haven't 
a  dress  of  any  sort  that  I  haven't  worn  before." 

"Do  girls'  dresses  only  wear  once?"  asked  Dick. 
"What  awful  rubbish  they  must  be!  Ha,  Kate!  don't 
you  preach  to  me  about  extravagance  again. — We  are  all 
tarred  with  the  same  stick,  you  see,  Clive." 

Clive  said  nothing.  He  merely  looked  at  the  fire  and 
smiled;  but  that  smile  stung  Kate  more  than  any  words, 
and  spoke,  to  her,  a  whole  volume  of  comments  on  her 
magnanimous  assertions  uttered  so  short  a  time  before. 
The  red  blood  rushed  up  iijto  her  face  with  such  a  glow, 
it  even  dyed  the  pretty  fingers  still  resting  on  her  mother's 
shoulders. 

"Why,  Kate,  how  red  you  are!"  cried  George,  who, 
his  bedtime  not  having  arrived,  was  amusing  himself  by 
swinging  on  to  the  back  of  Clive's  chair,  and  taking  a  lively 
interest  in  the  conversation  of  his  elders.  Clive  looked 
up  sharply,  meeting  Kate's  honest,  shame-faced  blushes 
with  a  keenly  scrutinizing  glance ;  and  George  found 
himself  suddenly  ousted  from  his  post  of  espionage  on 
the  barrister's  chair. 

"There  is  one  great  advantage  in  ladies'  dresses  over 
luxuries  in  general,"  said  the  latter,  presently.    "They  are 
bought,  made,  and  worn  not  for  the  wearer's  selfish  in- 
dulgence, but  for  the  purely  unselfish  reason  of  giving 
7 


98 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE li-: 


pleasure  to  other  people,  or  doing  credit  to  her  own.  No 
one  ever  heard  of  a  woman  buying  a  ball-dress  to  wear 
in  her  bed-room,  or  for  her  own  solitary  gratification; 
therefore,  one  of  these  two  objects  must  be  the  motive  of 
all  those  ethereal  'toilettes'  which  gratify  our  eyes  at 
night;  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  Miss  Bellew's  will  fulfill 
both.  By  the  way" — with  a  swift  change  of  subject — "  I 
also  am  going  to  this  famous  baU." 

"The  deuce  you  are!"  said  Dick,  languidly.  "I 
didn't  know  you  knew  the  De  Ponsonbys." 

"I  do  not;  but  a  friend  of  yours.  Lady  Beatrice  Van- 
borough,  does,  and  has  kindly  asked  me  to  go  with  her." 

"And  you  agreed!  What  a  good  Samaritan!  The 
De  Ponsonbys  seem  to  be  enlisting  all  their  benevolent 
acquaintances  in  the  cause  of  helping  to  fill  those  hide- 
ous rooms  of  theirs.     I  shan't  show  myself,  I  know." 

"Why,  Dick  !  Oh  !"  cried  Kate,  waking  from  a  med- 
itation which,  to  judge  by  expression,  was  not  a  happy 
one — "  all  I  cared  about  in  going  was  that  you  would  be 
there." 

"Thank  you,  my  child,  but  you  see  I've  no  hankering 
to  meet  Uncle  Theo.  after  his  language  in  the  Park  last 
week;  and  he's  just  as  likely  as  not  to  be  there,  De  Pon- 
sonby  was  a  sub.  under  him  in  my  lord's  army  days ;  and 
they're  both  'Carlton'  men,  you  know." 

"  But  Uncle  Theo.  never  goes  to  balls — does  he,  mother? 
— Oh,  Dick  1  do  come.  There  will  be  no  one  else  there 
that  I  care  the  least  for,  except  Bee  Vanborough,"  said 
Kate,  pathetically  and  quite  unconscious  of  the  poor  com- 
pliment she  was  paying  to  the  gentleman  who  was  so 
busy  trying  to  arrange  the  focus  of  Eve's  stereoscope,  that 
the  young  lady  might  employ  it  on  some  photographs  he 
had  brought  her.  He  saw  it,  for  he  was  quick-sighted  to  a 
fault ;  but  he  also  saw  her  unconsciousness,  and  smiled, 
not  ill-temperedly.  I  don't  think  he  was  an  ill-tempered 
man,  though  he  called  himself  one. 

Dick  hemmed  and  hawed,  and  wouldn't  promise. 
"Well — if  Clive  is  going,"  he  said,  at  last.  "And  I 
wonder  if  any  of  the  other  fellows  I  know  are." 

"A   fellow  I  know  is,"  said   Clive,  "and,  by  the   way, 


PRE  TT  Y  MISS  BELL  EW.  gg 

about  the  last  person  I  should  have  expected  to  meet  at 
a  ball  here." 

"  Who's  that  ?  " 

"Oh,  no  one  you  know.  I  met  him  in  New  York 
when  I  was  over  there  a  year  or  so  ago.  He  was  not 
going  into  general  society  at  all  then — lived  a  hermit  sort 
of  life,  and  would't  look  at  a  woman." 

"  Dear  me  !  Why  ?  "  said  Kate,  opening  her  brown 
eyes  in  great  amazement  at  this  last  item. 

"A  sort  of  modern  Timon,"  added  Eve.  "I  should 
like  to  meet  him." 

"Only  he  wouldn't  look  at  you,"  said  Madge,  "so 
where  would  be  the  good  ?  " 

"  Eve  isn't  a  woman,  so  he  would,"  put  in  George. 
"She's  only  a  girl.  Oh,  is  it  my  bed-time?  I'm  sure  it 
isn't  nine  yet.  How  beastly !  Oh,  need  I  go  yet,  mam- 
ma ?  " 

"But  what  had  made  your  friend  so  misanthropical?" 
said  Kate,  returning  to  the  charge  as  George  was  ejected. 
Clive  looked  a  little  annoyed,  as  if  he  had  said  more  than 
he  meant  already. 

"  Oh — some  family  trouble,  I  believe.  I  dare  say  he 
would  not  care  to  have  it  remembered  now.  By  the  way, 
he  was  not  a  friend  of  mine;  T  only  met  him  once  or 
twice.     He  had  been  abroad  for  years." 

"Is  he  going  with  Lady  Bee?"  asked  Dick,  and  Clive 
answered,  "  No,"  rather  shortly,  as  if  he  did  not  care  to 
pursue  the  subject.     Kate  started  another. 

"Talking  of  Bee,  mamma,"  she  said,  "do  you  know 
she  has  engaged  a  companion  at  last.  She  wrote  to  tell 
m#so.     I  do  think  it  is  the  funniest  idea." 

"  I  thought  ladies  in  her  position  often  wanted  a  friend 
or  companion,"  said  Clive,  as  Lady  Margaret  said,  "Very 
funny,"  in  acquiescence. 

"Yes,  and  when  her  husband  died  three  years  ago, 
everybody  said  she  ought  to  get  one  for  propriety  because 
she  looked  so  young."  replied  Kate;  "but  she  set  herself 
against  it  quite  obstinately.  Mamma  was  quite  vexed 
with  her." 

"Well,  my  dear,  because  it  was  out  of  sheer  opposition 
to  her  mother-in-law." 


I  oo  PRE  TT  Y  MISS  BELLE  W. 

"Well,  mother  mine,  old  Lady  Vanborough  is  so  dis- 
a2;reeable;  and  really  Bee  did  not  need  a  companion. 
She  is  one  of  those  women  who  are  perfecdy  able  to  take 
care  of  themselves  anywhere." 

"And  therefore,  as  a  woman's  vocation  in  life  is  to  be 
taken  care  of,  thoroughly  unwomanly,"  put  in  Dick. 

"Dick,"  said  Kate ,  solemnly,  "you  are  a  very  dear 
boy,  but  you  don't  know  anything  in  the  world  about 
women,  /could  take  care  of  myself,  and  I'm  not  unwom- 
anly." 

Clive  laughed — "  Logic  unanswerable  ! "  he  said.  "At 
any  rate.  Lady  Bee  has  testified  to  her  womanliness  by 
yielding  now — 'Best  proof  of  womanhood  you  still  will 
find  in  that  sweet  aptitude  to  change  her  mind.'" 

"Yes,  but  this  is  such  a  queer  arrangement,"  Kate 
said.  "Nobody  thinks  she  needs  a  companion  now; 
so  she  has  been  looking  out  for  one  for  some  months, 
only  not  to  go  out  with  her,  not  to  accompany  her  to  the 
opera  or  anywhere,  not  even  to  ap]jear  when  she  has 
guests  at  home,  without  a  special  invitation;  just  for  a 
companion  for  herself  when  she's  alone  and  dull,  to  talk, 
or  read,  or  sing  to  her  as  she  wants,  write  letters,  and  all 
that  sort  of  thing.  She  has  been  ever  so  long  finding 
one  to  suit ;  for  she  would  have  a  lady,  and  a  pleasant- 
looking  one;  and  pleasant-looking  ladies  generaUy 
wanted  to  go  out  with  her ;  but  now  she  has  goi  a  lady 
who  hates  society,  and  agrees  with  her  in  all  her  no- 


tions." 


"In  other  words,  a  companion  who  objects  to  play 
foil  to  Bee  as  much  as  Bee  objects  her  companion  to 
play  sheep-dog  to  her,"  said  Dick,  yawning.  "Sensible 
women!  And  what  like  is  the  damsel?  Elderly,  I 
presume  ?  " 

"Not   old.    Bee   says;     and   adds — oh!    here   is   her- 

letter : 

"She  has  such  a  lovely  face  and  style,  that  shiiply  to 
have  her  sitting  near  me  at  work  will  be  Paradise,  after 
sohtary  gapings  by  myself,  or  dual  bickerings  with  one  of 
the  Vanborough  girls.  If  it  were  only  to  prevent  those 
detestable  young  women  from  volunteering  ^'isits  on  the 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEU:  jqi 

score  of  my  loneliness,  she  will  be  a  blessing.  You  nnust 
come  and  look  at  her."' 

"Upon  my  word!"  cried  Dick.  "We'll  go  together, 
Kittie.  A  girl  too,  and  secluded  in  Bee  Vanborough's 
boudoir!  What  an  inducement  to  put  up  with  her  un- 
bearable tongue,  and  go  there  often !     Lovely,  eh  !" 

"I  don't  think  the  lady  is  a  girl,  with  all  due  defer- 
ence to  your  anticipations,  Bellew,"  spoke  Clive,  very 
slowly.  "I  am  afraid  you  will  be  disapi)ointed.  You 
forget  your  friend's  tendency  to  exaggerate." 

"Why,  have  you  seen  her  there?  What  is  she  like 
then?" 

"  Like  a  middle-aged  widow  lady,  with  her  hair  in 
bands,  and  a  widow's  cap,  and  sufficient  quiet  reserve 
to  hold  her  position,"  Clive  answered,  in  the  same  chill- 
ing way,  and  rising  to  go.  Dick  made  a  face  of  dis- 
gust. 

"So  much  for  your  swans,  Kittie!  I  am  glad  Clive 
saved  me  from  being  duped  into  a  call. — And  what 
about  the  loveliness,  eh,  Clive?" 

Clive  was  just  bidding  good  night  to  Lady  Margaret. 
He  looked  over  his  shoulder. 

"Really,  you  must  not  ask  me  to  pronounce  against 
any  lady's  claims  in  that  line.  What  poet  was  it  who 
said,  'Oh,  womanhood,  most  fair  within  thyself" 

"  Hang  it,  my  dear  fellow,  but  I  would  rather  have  a 
woman  whose  fairness  was  not  all  ^wit/im.'  " 

"  E.xactly.  Still,  every  man  has  a  different  taste  in 
these  matters." 

"  In  other  words,  she  is  as  ugly  as  sin." 

"That  again  depends  on  the  relative  ugliness  of  sin. 
Men  differ,  as  you  are  aware,  even  on  that  point.  Good- 
night.— Miss  Bellew,  I  shall  expect  to  see  you  the  most 
magnificently  plumed  of  all  the  birds  of  Paradise  on 
Friday  next." 

"He  will  be  disappointed  then,"  said  Kate,  gravely, 
when  the  door  had  closed.  "Dick,  dear"  (nestling  up  to 
her  brother),  "  I  am  so  glad  you  said  f/ia/  about  extrava- 
gance. Do  you  believe  that  it  really  hadn't  crossed  my 
mind  before?" 


I02  PRETTY  MISS  BELLE W. 

"What  hadn't?  Are  you  crazy,  child  ?  "  asked  Dick, 
pinching  the  plump  arms  linked  round  his. 

"  No,  but  I  am  going  to  manage  with  what  I've  got.  I 
hope  I  shan't  look  very  horrid  and  dowdy,"  said  Kate, 
with  a  little  pout  of  her  ripe  under  lip,  "but  if  it  will  save 
twelve  pounds — and  at  all  events  "  (brightening  up)  "  you 
will  have  to  go  with  me  now,  for  if  I  am  a  dreadful  failure 
I  shall  want  some  one  to  stand  by  me." 

"Thanks;  a  calm  suggestion!  I  wonder  the  idea 
doesn't  cross  your  limited  mind,  Miss  Kittie,  that  if  you 
were  a  'dreadful  failure,'  as  you  call  it,  I  might  be 
ashamed  to  show  in  your  company." 

"  A  very  likely  notion  !  As  if  you  cared  less  for  me 
than  I  for  you !  And  I  wouldn't  be  ashamed  of  you  if 
you  had  only  shirt-sleeves  and  corduroys  to  appear  in. 
There ! " 


CHAPTER  XI. 

"eyes  like  lamps." 

AFTER  all  the  ball  was  a  success,  and  the  De  Ponson- 
bys  had  not  to  "gnash  their  teeth"  over  the  empti- 
ness of  their  rooms.  Reflected  in  the  long  mirrors,  and 
relieved  against  the  crimson  draperies,  troops  of  white- 
robed  nym])hs  and  whiter-fronted  cavaliers,  moved  to  and 
fro,  or  floated  round  in  languid  circles  to  the  strains  of  a 
band  of  musicians  skillfully  hidden  behind  a  small  forest 
of  azaleas — white,  rose-colored  and  scarlet — dark-leaved 
evergreens,  sweet-smelling  lemon-leaves,  and  every  hot- 
house shrub  that  could  be  collected.  P>om  every  bracket 
and  pilaster  in  the  room  drooped  trails  of  fairy-like  creep- 
ers, from  baskets  of  cyclamen,  hyacinths,  and  maiden- 
hair. In  the  conservatory,  lit  only  by  a  huge  lamp 
swung  from  the  roof,  within  a  globe  of  blue  crystal,  the 
silvery  plash  and  murmur  of  a  fountain,  set  among  banks 
of  ferns  and  garlands  of  brilliant  flowers,  shed  a  refresh- 
ing coolness  over  the  warm,  perfumed  air ;  and  on  all 
sides,  floating  round  the  ball-room,  toying  with  the  re- 
freshments, or  dropped  to  rest  among  the  leaves  and 
flowers  of  the  conservatory,  jewels  sparkled,  and  bright 
eyes  shone,  and  clouds  of  tulle  and  areo])hane — white 
and  colored — floated  like  the  mists  of  morning,  from 
forms  as  young  and  lithe  as  the  immortal  goddesses  of 
old. 

Mrs.  de  Ponsonby,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  Petre,  glowed 
like  an  animated  cabbage-rose. 

Miss  Fothergill,  with  every  little  bone  in  her  neck  and 

103 


I04 


PRETTY  MISS  BE  LIE  IV. 


shoulders  quivering  skeleton-like  through  a  veil  of  violet- 
powder,  pronounced  it  "too  delicious.  Oh,  isn't  it  a 
divine  ball,  Mr.  Philpots  ?  and  what  a  pity  you  can't 
dance!  But  you  don't  think  it  wrong  of  me,  do  you? 
Oh,  do  tell  me." 

Kate,  in  a  plain  white  dress,  chosen  from  her  stores 
because  it  was  "really  quite  fresh,  only  worn  once  for  an 
hour,"  but  equally  lovely  from  its  simplicity  as  from  its 
freshness,  a  white  dress  looped  with  trails  of  real  ivy  green, 
and  fresh  with  wood-primroses  in  her  bosom,  and  a 
wreath  of  ivy  and  primroses  in  her'vvavy  hair,  one  pretty 
hand  resting  lovingly  on  her  brother's  arm,  stood  the 
centre  of  a  group  of  admirers,  all  clamoring  to  put 
down  their  names  upon  her  card,  while  she — smiling  and 
flushed  with  honest,  childlike  enjoyment,  with  lips  apart 
and  eyes  beamimg — granted  or  evaded  their  petitions,  as 
caprice  or  kindness  prompted,  and  stubbornly  refused  to 
give  away  one  of  the  dances  marked  with  a  mysterious 
cross:  "Dick's  dances,"  she  whispered  to  her  mother. 
"  He  likes  to  dance  with  me,  so  I  made  him  promise  we 
should  have  those  three." 

Clive  saw  the  animated  group,  and  guessed,  before  he 
saw,  who  formed  the  centre.  He  had  arrived  late  with 
his  party,  and  having  deposited  Lady  Vanborough  on  a 
sofa,  and  obtained  the  promise  of  a  quadrille  later,  was 
sauntering  across  the  room,  when  his  glance  fell  on  a 
gentleman  standing  by  himself,  and  gazing  with  the  half- 
curious,  half-dreamy  look  of  a  stranger  to  such  things  at 
the  scene  around  him.  Their  eyes  met  in  a  sort  of  mu- 
tual start  of  recognition.  The  gentleman  made  a  half- 
salutation,  as  uncertain  whether  he  were  right  in  claiming 
acquaintance  or  not,  and  Clive  stopped. 

"Mr.  M'Kenzie,  I  think,"  he  said,  courteously  enough. 
"I  fancied  I  saw  you  at  the  'Travellers'  yesterday;  and 
a  mutual  friend  told  me  you  had  returned  to  pay  England 
a  visit." 

"Yes,  I  came  home  three  weeks  ago.  How  different 
everything  is ! " 

"I  suppose  so.  By  the  way,  this  is  rather  a  different 
scene  to  the  one  in  which  we  last  met." 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE iV. 


105 


"Among  the  White  Mountains,  was  it  not  ?  I  thought 
I  knew  your  lace,  though  till  you  spoke  I  did  not  remem- 
ber the  name.     Yes,  different  indeed!" 

"I  should  not  have  fancied  you  a  ball-going  man." 

"Neither  am  I.  I  believe  that  there  is  nothing  now 
that  I  care  less  for  in  the  lap  of  creation." 

"And  yet?"  said  Clive,  smiling  a  little  ironically. 

"And  yet  I  am  at  one!  Exactly  ;  but  the  simple  rea- 
son is,  that  a  fellow-passenger  of  mine  and  her  sister  had 
an  invitation,  and  wanted,  to  come  very  much.  They  are 
foreigners ;  the  matron  is  shy ;  the  husband  was  ordered 
to  Lisbon  three  days  before;  and  if  I  had  not  consented 
to  act  escort  in  his  place,  the  poor  little  women  would 
have  fancied  they  had  missed  a  great  pleasure.  At  pres- 
ent I  fear  they  are  finding  it  a  great  delusion :  more  es- 
pecially as  my  dancing  days  are  over." 

"You  are  evidently  a  good  Samaritan,  Mr.  M'Kenzie," 
said  Clive,  laughing,  "  and  report  has  done  you  wrong. 
Your  New  York  friends  called  you  the  woman-hater." 

"  My  New  York  friends  did  me  less  and  the  fair  sex 
more  than  justice.  Man's  hatred,  Mr.  Clive,  is  some- 
thing too  strong  to  be  wasted  on  things  so  utterly  weak 
as  women." 

They  were  standing  in  the  embrasure  of  a  window,  the 
stranger  a  slightly-built  man,  with  a  skin  evidently  tanned 
by  foreign  suns,  and  eyes  like  those  of  a  stag — large,  dark, 
and  blazing  with  passionate  feeling  and  intelligence  :  per- 
haps the  handsomest — certainly  the  most  noticeable — 
man  in  the  room ;  and  Clive,  with  his  colorless  skin,  big, 
heavy  limbs,  and  irregular  features,  seeming  to  be  placed 
beside  him  for  a  foil — some  of  the  women  thought  so,  at 
any  rate ;  I  don't  suppose  the  idea  would  have  occurred 
to  a  man. 

Up  in  the  farther  end  of  the  long  rooms,  brilliantly  lit 
by  scores  of  gas-burners,  reflected  from  flashing  jewels 
and  glittering  mirrors,  the  band  was  playing  the 
"Tournez  Waltz"  from  Madame  An_i:;ot.  The  tender 
minor  key  of  the  melody  floated  dreamily  over  the  buzz 
of  voices,  and  all  around  close-linked  couples  waved  and 
swayed  and  turned,  in  languid  rhythm  to  the  soft  slow 
rippling  of  the  music. 


1 06  PRE  TTY  MISS  BELL  E  W. 

"  It  reminds  me  of  the  Spanish  dances  in  South  Amer- 
ica, only  that  they  are  still  prettier,  and  less  monotonous," 
said  Dallas  M'Kenzie.  "  Is  it  believable  that  any  com- 
poser has  succeeded  in  introducing  an  air  which  compels 
Englishwomen  to  dance  as  quietly  as  their  Southern  sis- 
ters ?  " 

"You  forget  the  unspeakable  charm  of  anything  novel 
in  this  used-up  nineteenth  century,"  said  Clive,  laughing. 
"To  dance  slowly  and  gracefully,  in  place  of  rushing 
round  a  room  in  furious  circles,  like  an  insane  humming- 
top,  tearing  your  neighbors'  dresses,  and  reducing  a  lady- 
like girl  to  the  appearance  of  an  ill-used  rag  doll,  is  a  new 
sensation,  and  therefore  likely  to  take  until  some  one  in- 
vents another.  Probably  it  will  be  the  exact  contrary. 
Les  extremes  se  touchent,  you  know,  in  London  particu- 
larly." 

"I  noticed  Mrs.  de  Ponsonby  put  'Tournez  Waltz'  in 
the  corner  of  her  card,  and  couldn't  guess  what  it  meant." 

"Yes,  and  a  wise  idea  it  was.  Who  can  guess  how 
many  extra  guests  she  obtained  by  that  simple  device  ? 
By  the  way,  don't  you  think  the  women  grow  more  insane 
in  the  way  of  dress  every  year  ?  Look  at  that  one  in 
flame-color,  with  peacock-feather  trimming." 

"Ay,  she  reminds  me  of  some  tropical  bird  I  have 
seen.  What  a  contrast  to  that  pretty  little  girl  in  white, 
with  primroses  in  her  hair?" 

"Which?  There  are  so  many;"  but  Clive's  face 
changed — one  would  think  he  knew. 

"That  one  standing  beside  the  handsome  lady  in  black 
velvet.  I  have  noticed  her  once  or  twice.  It  is  such  a 
frank,  honest  face ;  and  the  eyes  seem  perfectly  to  beam 
with  innocent  happiness.  Don't  you  see  her?  She  is 
the  simplest  dressed  girl  in  the  room,  and  to  my  mind  the 
most  charming." 

"  Yes,  I  see  her,"  Clive  said,  a  queer  sort  of  reluctance 
in  his  tone. 

"  And  do  you  know  who  she  is  ?  I  think  I  saw  you 
talking  to  her  chaperone." 

"Yes" — with  equal  reluctance — "a  Miss  Bellew.  I 
must  leave  you  now.  I  am  engaged  for  this  dance;" 
and  Mr.  M'Kenzie  was  left  alone. 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW.  107 

Ten  minutes  later,  when  the  dance  was  over,  CHve 
found  himself  at  Kate's  side. 

"I  have  not  had  time  to  speak  to  you  yet,"  he  said,  in 
the  short  manner  he  always  used  to  her.  "  You  were 
dancing  when  I  first  saw  your  mother." 

"Yes,  with  Dick.  I  always  make  Dick  dance  the  first 
with  me,  unless  he  is  engaged  for  it ;  he  dances  so  well. 
But,  Mr.  Clive,  I  am  very  glad  you  have  come  up.  I 
was  really  wishing  to  see  you." 

"Were  you?  Thank  you,"  said  Clive,  his  grave  face 
lightening  under  the  cordial  tone. 

"Yes;  I  Avanted  to  ask  you —  Where  is  he  now? 
Oh  there,  under  that  archway.  Who  is  that  gentleman 
you  were  talking  to  during  the  'Tournez  ?' " 

"Which  gentleman?"  Clive  was  certainly  rather 
stupid  this  evening,  and  the  light  had  gone  out  of  his  face 
again. 

"Why,  you  were  only  talking  to  one,"  Kate  answered, 
somewhat  quickly.  "I  was  looking  at  you  both  all  the 
time,  and  he  is  the  handsomest  man  in  the  room.  I 
never  saw  such  wonderlul  eyes ;  they  are  just  like  lamps. 
Who  is  he  ?  Every  one  is  asking,  and  no  one  seems  to 
know." 

"Every  one  is  easily  excited,"  said  Clive,  drily.  "If 
you  mean  that  gentleman  under  the  arch  there,  he  is  a 
Mr.  M'Kenzie." 

"They  say  he  has  only  just  come  to  London.  Is  it 
the  one  you  were  speaking  of  ?  " 

"Was  I  speaking  of  one?" 

"  Why,  of  course  you  were ! "  cried  Kate,  a  little  impa- 
tiently.    "You  said  he  never  went  into  society." 

"Then  I  must  have  been  wrong — ^judging  from  appear- 
ances, at  least." 

"  You  know  what  I  mean — that  he  used  not  to  go  into 
society  when  you  knew  him.  Mamma  and  I  have  been 
watching  him  with  interest,  and  have  decided,  first,  that 
the  trouble  you  spoke  of  is  still  written  in  his  face;  and 
seconilly,  that  he  is  quite  the  most  distinguished-looking 
man  in  the  room.  If  he  dances  well,  I  shall  not  be  sat- 
isfied till  he  is  introduced  to  me." 


lo8  PRETTY  MISS  BE LLEW. 

"  I  do  not  think  he  dances  at  all ;  and  I  am  not  sure 
that  you  would  very  much  care  to  know  hun,  distinguished 
as  he  looks,"  Clive  said,  a  little  spitefully. 

Lady  Margaret's  maternal  solicitude  took  fire  at  once. 

"  My  dear  Katie,  how  imprudent  you  are !  and  in  such 
a  very  mixed  assemblage  too.  You  must  be  more 
thoughtful;  and  really  I  think  Mrs.  de  Ponsonby  should 
be  careful  what  sort  of  people — " 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  Clive  interrupted,  with  some 
annoyance.  "You  misunderstood  me.  Mr.  M'Kenzie 
is,  as  far  as  I  know,  as  much  a  gentleman  as  I  am,  and 
comes  of  a  good  family.     I  only  meant — " 

"Mr.  Clive  only  meant  to  put  me  in  tlie  wrong,  as 
usual,  mamma,"  said  Kate,  flushing  hotly.  "That  he  did 
it  at  his  friend's  expense  was  immaterial." 

Clive  bowed. 

"Thanks  for  the  amiable  motives  with  which  you  credit 
me,  Miss  Belle w,  I — " 

"  Quarreling  as  usual,  you  two  !  "  said  Dick,  coming  up. 
"'Let  dogs  delight  to  bark  and  fight'  ought  to  be  put  up 
on  both  your  tombstones.  Katie,  my  child,  you  remind 
me  of  '  Red  as  a  rose  was  she.'    Why  aren't  you  dancing  ?  " 

"I  came  to  remind  your  sister  that  she  had  promised 
this  dance  to  me,"  said  Clive,  "but  as  I  have  had  the 
misfortune  to  offend  her,  I  suppose  she  will  hardly  care  to 
keep  her  engagement." 

"  Nonsense,  my  good  fellow !  Kate  is  not  such  a 
vixen  as  that — are  you,  Kittie,  m'amie  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure  I  don't  know  what  1  am,"  said  Kate, 
glancing  resentfully  at  Clive.  "I  am  quite  ready  to 
dance  with  Mr.  Clive  when  he  wishes  it." 

Clive  offered  her  his  arm  instantly,  and  without  a 
word.  If  she  had  expected  him  to  be  magnanimous 
she  was  disappointed,  and  for  the  first  few  turns  the 
little  wrist  he  held  was  throbbing  with  indignation,  and 
he  could  almost  feel  the  angry  beating  of  the  heart 
so  near  his  arm.  It  softened  down  gradually,  and  the 
red  flush  died  out  of  her  cheeks  beneath  another  spell 
than  words.  He  had  not  spoken,  but  between  really 
good  dancers  there  is  a  sort  of  natural  affinity.     You 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV.  109 

can  hardly  move  limbs  and  body  in  perfect  dual  time 
and  melody  without  some  sort  of  sympathy,  however 
imperfect,  exercising  its  soothing  influence  over  the  mind 
as  well. 

Before  they  had  gone  once  round  the  room,  Kate 
realized  the  fact  that  she  had  never  danced  with  any  one 
before  whose  step  suited  her  so  exactly ;  and  she  was 
almost  angry  with  herself  for  feeling  a  shade  of  regret 
when  he  stopped  at  the  entrance  to  the  conservatory, 
and  asked  if  she  were  tired. 

"No,  not  at  all,"  she  answered,  trying  to  speak  as 
grimly,  not  as  she  felt,  but  as  she  felt  she  ought  to  feel 
towards  such  an  unpleasant  person.  He  looked  down 
on  her  half  sadly,  half  smiling. 

"  Miss  Bellew,  are  we  never  to  be  friends  ?  I  did 
not  mean  to  offend  you  just  now.  Will  you  not  forgive 
me?" 

"I  don't  think  you  care  about  my  forgiveness,  or  my 
friendship  either,"  said  Kate,  wiUfully.  "You  do  offend 
me.  I  am  not  going  to  pretend  you  don't.  I  sui)pose 
I  am  not  used  to  being  snubbed  by  gentlemen — or 
ladies  either"  (this  as  an  after-thought),  "and  I  don't 
like  it." 

"  1  never  intended  to  snub  you." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Clive,  I  think  you  did,  though 
you  may  not  have  intended  me  to  resent  it.  I  don't  know 
in  what  way  you  usually  speak  to  your  lady  acquaint- 
ances, but  1  can  assure  you  your  manner  to  me  is  not  at 
all  pleasant;  and  I  do  not  like  it." 

"  i  have  begged  your  ])ardon,"  he  said,  his  voice  as 
hard  as  his  eyes  were  keen  and  searching,  "I  can  do  no 
more.  You  are  utterly  and  entirely  unjust  to  me,  but  that 
is  no  matter.  You  could  not  understand  it  if  it  were  ex- 
plained to  you." 

"If  I  were  unjust  it  would  matter  very  much — to  me" 
said  Kate,  "but  I  don't  think  I  am.  just  now,  for  in- 
stance— " 

"Yes,  just  now.  You  wished  to  know  a  person,  an 
utter  stranger  to  you,  simply  because  he  had  beautiful 
eyes — 'like  lamps,'  didn't  you  say  ? — and  if  you  had  been 


1 1  o  PRE  TT  V  A//SS  BELLE  W.       ^ 

my  sister,  I  should  have  said  just — but  what  does  it  mat- 
ter ?  I  suppose  I  took  a  Hberty  in  saying  anything.  At 
any  rate,  you  think  so." 

"Yes,  I  did  think  so,"  said  Kate,  uncompromisingly 
honest.  "But  if  you  did  not  mean  it,  there  is  an  end  of 
the  subject.  1  wish"  (with  a  little  sigh)  "that  we  could 
have  been  friends,  but  I  think  that  is  quite  out  of  the  ques- 
tion.    We  should  never  agree  on  any  subject." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?" 

"I  am  sure  of  it." 

He  made  no  answer,  only  put  his  arm  round  her  waist 
and  whirled  her  off  again.  His  heart  was  beating  most 
quickly  now,  but  Kate  did  not  guess  it.  Only  at  the  end 
of  the  room  she  looked  up  naively  into  a  very  stern,  pale 
face,  and  said,  with  her  own  saucy,  coaxing  smile : 

"  I  was  quite  wrong.  We  should  agree  in  one  thing : 
you  dance  better  than  almost  any  one  I  know — except 
Dick." 

"  Then  at  least  you  will  not  refuse  to  dance  with  me," 
cried  Clive,  and  carried  her  off  her  feet  again  nothing 
loth. 

"They  are  the  best-matched  couple  in  the  room,"  said 
Mrs.  de  Ponsonby  to  the  gentleman  she  was  conversing 
with,  and  putting  up  her  gold  eyeglass  as  the  couple  flew 
past  her;  "Kate  Bellew  is  wild  about  dancing." 

"  She  is  lovely  enough  to  make  young  men  wild  about 
dancing  with  her,"  said  M'Kenzie,  warmly.  "Will  you 
introduce  me  when  it  is  over?" 

"  My  dear  Mr.  M'Kenzie !  you,  a  world-wide  traveler, 
so  easily  subjugated  !  " 

"In  what  does  subjugation  consist?"  said  the  gentle- 
man, good-humoredly — "liking  to  talk  to  a  fresh,  inno- 
cent-looking little  girl,  in  the  pause  between  two  of  her 
dances  ?  You  have  no  pity  on  us  middle-aged,  non- 
dancing  men,  Mrs.  de  Ponsonby,  or  you  would  not  con- 
demn us  to  silent  contemplation  of  countless  twinkling 
toes  for  a  whole  evening." 

"Well,  beware,  that  is  all.  Miss  Bellew  is  a  terrible 
little  flirt." 

"  Is  she  ?     Poor  little  girl !  "  he  said,  smiling  sadly.     "  I 


PRE  TTY  MISS  BELLE  W.  j  1 1 

am  sorry.  However,  she  looks  too  young»to  have  done 
much  harm  yet ;  and  as,  fortunately,  it  would  be  out  of 
the  question  with  me,  I  may  do  some  good  in  standing 
between  her  and  one  of  her  victims  for  a  i&w  minutes." 

"Ah!  I  see  you  feel  you  are  invulnerable.  Well,  I 
should  hope  so,  for  the  credit  of  your  taste." 

And,  accordingly,  Kate  had  hardly  been  returned  to 
her  mother's  side,  before  she  heard  some  one  being  intro- 
duced to  her  mother  and  herself,  and  saw  Lady  Margaret 
bowing  to  the  dark,  handsome  stranger,  with  the  ••lamp- 
like" eyes,  about  whom  Clive  and  she  had  quarreled. 
With  an  involuntary  impulse  of  mischief  she  looked  up 
smiling,  half  consciously,  half  triumphantly,  at  Clive;  but 
he  was  already  turning  away;  and  though  during  the 
evening  she  remembered  him,  and  glanced  round  for 
him  more  than  once,  he  appeared  no  more.  Truth  to 
say,  he  had  seen  Mrs.  de  Ponsonby  approaching  with 
her  convoy  ;  had  caught  Kate's  dimpling  flush  of  saucy 
pleasure;  and,  bitterly  vexed,  for  reasons  best  known  to 
himself,  had  left  the  room  at  once. 

Why  he  should  care  so  much  he  could  hardly  tell  him- 
self It  is  true  he  knew  something  about  Dallas  M'Kenzie's 
past  life — something  which,  if  true,  would  make  him  shrink 
from  seeing  that  gentleman,  however  estimable  in  otlier 
ways,  an  intimate  friend  of  any  woman  dear  to  him. 
But  was  Kate  Bellew  dear  to  him?  \\'as  she  not,  on  the 
contrary,  rather  obno.xious  than  otherwise — a  young 
woman  with  whom,  as  she  said  herself,  he  could  never 
agree  on  any  one  subject?  Yet  why,  on  the  other  hand, 
should  he  let  her  annoy  him  ?  Why  should  they  be  al- 
ways meeting  and  always  fighting,  when  by  simply  stay- 
ing away  from  the  house  he  could  devote  himself  to 
sweeter  and  gentler  maidens,  at  whose  words  and  deeds 
he  need  not  be  for  ever  carjjing  ?     Why  ? 

Well,  he  told  himself  that  he  did  not  care  about  any 
other  girls.  They  did  not  interest  him — their  very 
sameness,  even  their  outward  faultlessness,  palled  on 
him.  They  were  all  so  deadlily  alike,  so  thickly  glazed 
with  the  stereotyped  varnish  of  society,  that  there  was 
no  gettitig  at  the  real  living  woman  within  them.     But 


1 1 2  PRE  TTY  MISS  BELLEW. 

Kate  was  ali  life;  not  mere  wax-doll  existence,  but 
keen,  eloquent,  faulty  life.  You  had  no  time  to  think 
of  what  qualities  were  hidden  within  her,  because  so 
much  was  shown  outside.  She  was  like  a  varied  and 
picturesque  landscape — all  hills  and  valleys,  foaming 
streams  and  sheltered  woods.  You  never  thought  what 
it  might  be  beneath,  or  whether  mines  of  gold  or  silver 
were  hidden  under  that  luxuriant  veil.  Occupied  with 
the  infinite  variety  of  the  surface,  you  took  for  granted 
the  buried  riches  within ;  but  perhaps  there  was  nothing 
within,  nothing  but  surface  in  her  nature.  He  could  not 
tell.  Lawyer  as  he  was,  all  he  knew  as  yet  was  that  that 
surface  was  such  a  mass  of  inconsistencies — some  right, 
some  wrong,  some  lovable  and  some  reprehensible — that 
it  took  up  all  his  thoughts,  to  the  exclusion  of  every  one 
else.  He  told  himself  that  he  was  impatient  with  her 
because  she  was  so  wrong-headed,  so  thoughtless  and 
inconsistent.  But  if  she  had  been  a  perfectly  right- 
minded,  prudent,  and  consistent  young  woman,  I  doubt 
very  much  whether  he  would  have  given  her  a  second 
thought.  He  told  himself,  too,  tkat  he  was  angry  with 
her  for  "not  doing  justice  to  herself ;".  but  why  should 
he  care  whether  she  were  just  to  herself  or  not?  What 
was  she  to  him  but  Dick  Bellew's  sister  ?  only — though 
he  had  taken  a  kindly  interest  in  Dick,  as  a  young  man 
and  distant  connection,  strangely  reminding  him  of  his 
dead  brother,  and  going  to  destruction  as  that  brother 
had  gone — his  interest  had  been  doubled  and  intensified 
ever  since  he  had  known  Dick's  family.  The  fact  was, 
he  was  inconsistent  himself;  and  not  being  willing  to 
admit  as  much,  tried  to  compress  the  facts  into  his 
theories,  instead  of  enlarging  his  theories  to  hold  the 
facts.  He  was  a  man  of  ultra-dogmatic  theories  and 
rigidly  uncompromising  opinions;  and  both  his  theories 
as  to  womankind  in  general,  and  opinions  of  women  in 
particular,  were  most  sharply  marked  out,  and  laid  down 
for  the  guidance  of  his  life. 

The  pity  was  that,  this  being  so,  he  did  not  let  them 
guide  him,  but  departed  from  them  forthwith,  and  then 
irked  at  the  woman  for  making  him  turn  out  of  his  narrow 
roadj  instead  of  at  himself  for  turning  out  of  it. 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 


113 


His  theory  of  women,  for  instance,  was  that  they  were 
to  be  low-voiced  and  mild-eyed,  imbued  with  unruffled 
dignity,  filled  with  holy  simplicity,  and  speaking  only  with 
sweet  propriety  and  gracious  gentleness.  A  very  fair 
picture,  as  any  one  will  allow,  and  nobody  could  quarrel 
with  him  for  making  up  his  mind  never  to  care  for  any 
woman  who  was  not  formed  after  such  a  type  in  all  and 
every  particular;  but  Kate  was  the  very  opposite  of  it, 
and  yet  he  did  care  for  her  a  great  deal  more  than  was 
compatible  with  his  own  comfort :  almost  as  much  as  for 
Mrs.  Grey,  who,  to  all  appearance  at  any  rate,  was  the 
very  embodiment  of  his  own  ideal.  He  admired  Mrs. 
Grey  the  most ;  he  looked  up  to  her,  and  liked  her  with 
a  liking  which  was  strengthened  by  esteem.  He  wished 
with  all  his  heart  that  Kate  resembled  her,  and  was 
decidedly  annoyed  with  the  young  lady  for  not  doing  so  ; 
but  the  very  fact  of  his  anger  proved  that  she  was  some- 
thing more  to  him  than  others  ;  for  had  Mrs.  Grey  treated 
him  one-half  as  coldly,  or  departed  a  tenth  part  as  much 
from  his  ideal,  he  would  have  ceased  to  .seek  her  society, 
or  trouble  himself  about  her  interests.  The  fact  was 
that  Kate  had  ca'st  a  spell  over  him ;  and  instead  of 
yielding  to  it,  and  acknowledging  that  there  might  be 
other  types  of  equal  excellence  though  differing  from  his 
own,  he  chafed  against  the  fascination  and  felt  bitterly  to- 
wards the  fairy  who  had  woven  it. 

Just  a  man,  dear  reader,  a  man  who  knew  what  right 
was,  and  strove  to  do  it  himself,  bitterly  reproaching  him- 
self if  he  departed  by  ever  so  little  from  his  own  high 
standard  of  duty ;  and  yet  feeling  a  sort  of  scornful  su- 
periority to  the  men  and  women  around  him  who,  hav- 
ing a  diflferent  standard,  or  none  at  all,  appeared  to  him 
to  live  after  the  gratification  of  their  own  vagrant  wills 
and  selfish  desires.  A  good  man,  but  unjust,  because  he 
expected  as  much  from  all  around  him  as  from  himself, 
and  when  they  fell  short,  gave  them  credit  for  nothing  at 
all:  a  good  man,  whose  whole  life  was  ruled  by  strong 
self-control  and  unyielding  principle,  with  a  strain  of 
almost  womanly  tender-heartedness  buried  out  of  his  own 
ken,  beneath  a  host  of  rules  and  regulations ;  yet  incon- 
8 


1 14  PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 

sistent  as  tall  good  men  and  women  must  be — as  Kate 
herself  was,  whose  life  was  regulated  by  impulse,  the  im- 
pulse of  a  generous,  loving,  utterly  undisciplined  heart, 
with  a  strong  little  backbone  of  principle  behind  it. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

BEE  VANBOROUGH. 


U 


IN  good  time,  Miss  Katie  Bellew !     Walk  in  straight 
and  make   confession.     I   thought   you   had  given 
me  up,  you  fickle  little  sinner." 

It  was  Lady  Vanborough,  or  Bee  Vanborough,  as  her 
friends  called  her,  who  was  speaking :  a  woman  of  mid- 
dle height,  dark  and  good-looking  ;  but  already,  at  eight- 
and  twenty,  showing  a  tendency  to  coarseness,  a  color 
unlovely  from  the  depth  of  its  carnations,  and  a  figure 
rapidly  losing  grace  in  flesh,  which  added  at  least  ten 
years  to  her  apparent  age :  a  woman  who  enjoyed  her 
pint  of  porter  at  luncheon  as  much  as  she  did  a  new 
opera,  and  her  champagne  and  port  at  dinner  as  much  as 
Lord  Lovegoats  did  his :  who  spoke  succulently  of  cer- 
tain pates  and  entremets,  and  recommended  choice  vari- 
eties of  sauces  to  you  with  an  appreciative  gusto  which 
would  have  convinced  the  most  sceptical  of  her  own  en- 
joyment thereof:  a  very  jolly  woman,  a  very  likable 
one,  made  for  this  world,  not  the  next,  and  "wiser  in  her 
generation  than  l!ie  children  of  light,"  enjoying  this  one 
to  the  full :  good-hearted  and  good-tempered,  detesting 
sentiment,  loathing  poetry,  clever  above  mediocrity,  plain 
in  speech  almost  to  insultingness,  independent  as  the  wind, 
courageous  as  a  dragoon,  and  scorning  utterly  depend- 
ence and  cowardice  in  others :  a  woman  who  would 
fight  another  woman's  battles  to  the  death  if  she  cared 
for  her,  and  lash  vindictively  a  third  who,  for  some 
occult   reason,   had  not  happened   to    take  her   fancy : 

"5 


1 1 6  PRE  TTY  MISS  BELLE  W. 

in  whom  a  certain  set  of  ladies  and  most  men  of  the 
world  delighted  :  whose  house  was  one  of  the  pleasantest 
in  London :  whose  cavalier  treatment  was  good-hu- 
moredly  submitted  to ;  and  yet,  who  had  a  perfect  army 
of  faults  and  eccentricities ;  and  notably  among  the  for- 
mer, one  of  which  nobody  would  ever  have  accused  her, 
and  which  she  herself  would  have  indignantly  repudiated. 

Affectation. 

Now,  you  know,  even  in  whispering  this,  I  can  see 
sundry  of  her  allies — Kate,  par  exemple — glaring  at  me  in 
indignation.  "  Bee  Vanborough  affected !  Why,  she 
was  the  most  daringly  honest  and  unconventionally  out- 
spoken woman  in  London.  People  blamed  me  for  scout- 
ing small  affectations,  but  I  was  nothing  to  her." 

Exactly,  my  dear  little  Kate,  because  you  were  natural, 
and  Bee  Vanborough  was  an  over-colored  copy  from  na- 
ture. Is  there  no  such  thing  as  an  affectation  of  frank- 
ness and  unconventionality  ?  Believe  me,  it  is  not  so  un- 
common as  you  may  imagine.  Lady  Bee  cared  so  little  for 
the  opinions  of  society  that  she  would  come  downstairs 
whistling,  at  the  top  of  her  voice,  bars  of  favorite  songs, 
and  witli  a  total  disregard  of  the  aristocratic  ears  listening 
to  her  from  the  drawing-room ;  and  her  friends  said,  "So 
like  Bee  Vanborough  ! — unconventional  and  easy  to  a 
fault:  wouldn't  alter  one  of  her  funny  little  home  habits, 
for  the  grandest  bashaw  living."  But  I  see  no  easiness  in 
a  habit  |)ut  on  only  to  startle  the  grand  bashaws,  and  not  in- 
dulged in  at  all  in  her  home  privacy.  Bee  Vanborough 
never  thought  of  whistling,  at  school-boy  pitch,  about  the 
house  when  she  was  alone.  It  was  the  same  with  her 
conversation.  She  said  things  which  shocked  you  in  the 
most  open  and  daring  way ;  but  I  doubt  if  she  thought 
them;  or  would  have  repeated  them  a  second  time  if 
they  hadn't  shocked  you,  or  if  you  had  taken  them  coolly 
as  an  every-day  matter  of  course.  I  have  sometimes 
wickedly  amused  myself,  by  the  way,  in  doing  that  very 
thing.  The  result  was  amusing.  First  she  "piled  the 
agony"  higher,  until  (and  she  is  tolerably  shrewd)  she 
felt  herself  ridiculous  in  her  own  eyes;  and  then  she 
dropped  it  altogether,  and  vindicated  her  common  sense 


PRE  TTY  MISS  BELLE  IV.  ij-j 

by  becoming  quite  pleasantly  unaffected  and  common- 
place. 

Treat  all  her  sham  of  want  of  sham  in  the  same  man- 
ner, and  I  believe  you  might  have  made  a  very  nice 
woman  of  her. 

On  the  present  occasion,  Lady  Bee  was  standing  at  the 
door  of  her  little  boudoir,  a  pretty  little  place,  chiefly 
composed  of  sea-green  silk,  point-lace,  old  china,  and 
quaint  bric-a-brac,  with  a  couple  of  riding-whips  and  a 
fox's  brush,  supporting  an  original  Murillo,  over  the 
chimney-piece,  a  pair  of  boxing-gloves  and  a  homceopathic 
medicine  chest  in  a  corner,  a  case  of  silver-mounted 
pistols,  one  loaded,  open  on  the  console  table,  and  a  vol- 
ume of  Ouida's  worst,  also  open,  on  the  sofa.  After 
what  I  have  said,  however,  the  most  virtuous  of  you  need 
not  shrink  at  the  mention  of  this  last  article.  Lady  Bee 
was  no  reader,  and  abhorring  sentiment  as  she  did,  would 
have  found  it  difiicult  to  wade  through  a  single  chapter 
of  the  "naughty"  novelist — always  excepting  the  gas- 
tronomical  portions. 

"But  this  is  my  reading — too  strong  for  you,  my  dear," 
she  said,  holding  it  up  to  Kate  before  giving  her  both 
hands  in  greeting.     "  Now,  come  and  make  confession." 

"What  am  I  to  confess,  Bee?"  said  Kate,  taking  the 
two  large,  white,  jeweled  hands  in  hers.  "  It  is  not  more 
than  a  fortnight  since  I  came  to  see  you." 

"And  twice  in  that  fortnight  I've  seen  a  bay  horse  in 
the  Row  alongside  of  yours;  and  once  I  have  dined  with 
you,  and  found  the  legs  that  bestrode  that  bay  ambling 
down  to  dinner  with  you.     Who  is  he  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  you  mean — "  began  Katie. 

"Katie,  don't  sham.  You  know  whom  I  mean. — 
Doesn't  she,  my  small  fatty  ?  "  (taking  up  Dottie,  who  had 
accompanied  her  sister,  and  kissing  her).  "  You  know  who 
is  Kate's  new  friend,  don't  you  ?  " 

" '  Es,"  said  Dottie,  promptly ;  "  Misser  C'ive.  Me  lites 
him  so  much.     Him  dave  me  a  doll." 

"You  are  a  worse  humbug  than  your  sister. — Kate, 
how  can  you  teach  her  to  l)e  such  an  abominable  deceiver? 
Of  course  I  don't  mean  Bernard  Clive,  /lis  dav  is  ovet 
1  ul— " 


1 1 8  PRE  TT  V  A//SS  BELLE  W. 

"Mr.  M'Kenzie,  I  suppose,"  said  Kate,  quietly;  "I 
was  going  to  say  his  name,  if  you  had  let  me  answer  in- 
stead of  Dottie." 

"And  now  tell  me  who  he  is." 

"  I  thought  you  wanted  to  know  his  name." 

"  No,  my  child,  I  knew  that  already ;  but  who  is  he  ?  " 

"A  gentleman." 

"  Kate,  don't  try  to  be  terse  ;  it's  not  your  line ;  besides, 
it  betrays  you.  I  begin  now  to  believe  in  some  of  Mrs. 
de  Ponsonby's  gossip." 

"You  didn't  before  then  ?  Well,  Bee,  without  knowing 
it  I  can  tell  you  one  thing  for  yourself:  first  thoughts  are 
truest  with  women." 

"  Sounds  like  one  of  Bernard  Clive's  sayings — is  it  ? 
Kate,  you're  an  awful  flirt." 

"Ay?/;"/.'"  cried  Kate,  opening  her  big  eyes  with  in- 
jured indignation.  "Well,  I  did  not  think  you  would 
call  me  that;  and  with  Mr.  Clive,  too,  whom  I  would 
not  flirt  with  to  save  my —  W'hy,  we — we  Iiate  one  an- 
other.    I  don't  know  any  one  I  dislike  so  heartily." 

"Strong  language,  Kate!"  said  Lady  Bee,  laughing 
provokingly,  as  she  drew  her  big  firm  fingers  through  the 
shining  gold  of  Dottie's  loose  locks.  "And  does  she  hate 
and  detest  Mr.  M'Kenzie  as  well,  Fatima?" 

"  Katie  lites  Misser  M'Kenzie;  Eve  says  so.  Eve  an' 
me  lites  Misser  C'ive,"  Dottie  answered,  volubly.  "  Him 
'colds  Katie,  Eve  says." 

"  Upon  my  word,  young  woman,  you  seem  to  be  up  in 
the  domestic  politics,"  laughed  Lady  Bee.  "  Scolds  you, 
eh,  Kate?" 

"It  is  quite  true,"  said  Kate,  scorning  to  deny,  though 
her  cheeks  grew  scarlet;  "and  remembering  my  meek- 
ness under  scoldings  at  school,  you  may  guess  how  fond 
I  am  of  Mr.  Clive.  If  Dick  did  not  like  him,  I  would 
never  have  let  mamma  ask  him  to  the  house;  but  I  think 
Dick  and  he  do  care  for  one  another." 

"And  Dick's  tastes  are  still  A  i  ?  " 

"Dick's  tastes  will  always  be  A  i,  as  you  call  it,  Bee," 
said  Kate,  good-humoredly.  "  Now,  don't  laugh  at  me ; 
you've  got  no  brother,  and  you  don't  understand  Dick,  or 


PRE  TT  Y  MISS  BELLE  W.  r  1 9 

you  would  know  what  an  immense  blessing  it  is  to  have 
him  for  one." 

"  Kate,  you're  a  good  little  thing,"  said  Lady  Vanbor- 
ough,  meditatively. 

"  What !  for  loving  Dick  ?  "  cried  Kate,  with  one  of 
her  merry  peals  of  laughter.  "  If  one  only  requires  that 
for  canonization,  it  is  easy  to  be  a  saint.  I  only  wish  he 
were  a  little  older:  old  enough  for  you  now.  Bee — " 

"  Thank  you  for  nothing,"  exclaimed  her  friend,  with  a 
most  unaffected  expression  of  horror.  "Good  heavens! 
I'm  not  proud,  but  I  hope—  There,  I'm  not  going  to  make 
you  angrv,  Katie." 

"I  hope  not,"  said  Kate,  simply,  "because  I  love  you, 
also,  and  I  should  be  very  angry  with  any  one  who 
sneered  at  me  for  doing  so." 

This  was  a  rebuke,  and  Bee  Vanborough  took  it  for  one, 
declaring  herself  annihilated,  and  in  need  of  immediate 
sherry  and  bitters  to  support  her  under  her  load  of  shame, 
with  a  variety  of  absurd  gestures  which  made  Dottie's 
blue  eyes  round  with  wonder,  and  Kate's  cheeks  rosy  with 
confusion,  but  which  did  not  prevent  her  from  giving  die 
latter  an  aftectionate  kiss  the  next  moment,  and  telling 
her  she  was  a  "dear,  good  little  fool,  and  then  she  liked 
her  better  for  her  folly  than  other  people  for  their  wis- 
dom." Kate  grew  redder  still  at  this,  and  felt  inclined  to 
argue  out  the  subject ;  but  Bee  Vanborough  was  a  nasty 
person  to  tackle  in  an  argument;  and,  afraid  that  she 
might  injure  her  hero  more  than  exalt  him,  Kate  chose 
the  better  part  of  valor,  and  held  her  tongue.     Said  Bee  : 

"Seriously,  Kittie,  I  am  glad  Dick's  friend  doesn't  rank 
with  Dick  in  your  affections  ;  for  I  am  afraid  it  would  be 
'love's  labor  lost.'  " 

"  Bee  dear,"  said  Kate,  wistfully,  "  Dottie  can  under- 
stand ;  and  even  if  she  couldn't,  I  hate  that  kind  of  talk 
— almost  as  much"  (with  a  laugh)  "as  I  hate  its  present 
subject." 

"Spare  your  hatred,  my  child,  for  it  won't  lacerate  his 
heart.     That  is  otherwise  disposed  of." 

"  His  heart/"  (very  scornfully),  "  I  did  not  know  he 
had  such  a  thing.     I  never  saw  such   a  cold,  insensible 


I20  PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW.     ■ 

man  in  my  life.  I  don't  think  he  has  any  warm  feelings 
in  him — except  for  a  dead  brother;  I  forgot  that.  He 
did  speak  of  him  once  as  if  he  loved  him — and  then, 
there's  Dick,  and  perhaps  mamma,  he  likes." 

"  And  ?  Go  on,  Katie,  that  is  three,  and  I  can  tell 
you  a  fourth." 

"  Who  ?  " 

"Mrs.  Grey." 

"Mrs. —  Not  your  companion  surely.  Bee!  Why  I 
haven't  seen  her  yet." 

"And  you  won't  now,  because  she  is  out;  and  she  is 
very  shy  of  seeing  visitors  into  the  bargain;  but  did  not 
you  know  that  Bernard  Clive  recommended  her  to  me  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Clive !  No,"  said  Kate,  with  wide-open  eyes ; 
and  then  there  flashed  back  upon  her  mind  the  evening 
when  Clive  had  sounded  her  for  her  opinion  of  Lady 
Vanborough ;  and  that  subsequent  one  when  the  new 
companion's  appearance  had  been  the  subject  of  conver- 
sation;  Clive  listening  with  apparent  indifference  till  he 
threw  in  that  casual  word  which  damped  Dick's  ardor  to 
see  Lady  Bee's  phoenix.  Looking  back  on  it  Kate  felt 
rather  warm.  "  He  might  have  said  something  ;  but — oh  ! 
it  was  just  like  him." 

"  Oh,  yes !  he  recommended  her  to  me,"  said  Lady 
Vanborough,  "and  most  earnestly  too :  told  me  that  she 
had  been  living  with  his  people,  and  showed  me  letters 
from  his  father  and  a  Canon  Digby  speaking  of  her  in  the 
highest  terms.  I  assure  you  he  quite  took  me  into  his 
confidence  (Fancy  Bernard  Clive  confidential !)  and  was 
quite  eloquent  on  the  subject;  but  love  makes  all  men 
alike ;  and  I  must  say  he  didn't  give  her  more  than  her 
due.  She  is  wonderfully  nice;  only  she  makes  one  so 
awfully  afraid  of  her — I  declare  I  quite  feel  on  my  P's 
and  Q's  when  she's  in  the  room." 

"She  must  be  wonderful  indeed  !  "  cried  Kate,  laughing 
heartily  at  the  idea  of  any  one — a  companion  especially 
— keeping  Lady  Bee  in  check. 

"Well,  I  think  better  of  Mr.  Clive  if  he  is  capable  of 
really  loving  any  one,  however  unsuitable ;  and  of  course 
she  must  be  a  paragon  of  perfection  for  him  to  approve 
her." 


PRE  TTY  MISS  BELLE  W.  1 2 1 

"Kate,  that  is  feminine  spite." 

"Yes,  it  is,"  owned  Kate,  after  one  little  gasp  at  the 
accusation ;  "  only  I  can't  fancy  him  deigning  to  like  any 
one  the  least  imperfect  or — " 

"Why,  bless  my  heart!"  broke  in  Bee  Vanborough, 
nearly  tossing  Dottie  off  her  knee  in  the  energy  of  the 
moment,  "  didn't  you  say  he  liked  Dick  ?  Good  gracious  ! 
I  am  forgetting  again" — as  a  pair  of  reproachful  brown 
eyes  met  hers  full — "  I  beg  pardon.     Go  on." 

"I  was  only  going  to  say  that,  as  he  is  so  much  with  us 
at  present,  I  think  he  need  not  have  been  so  close — so — 
Why,  I  call  it  almost  deceitful ; "  and  Kate  narrated  the 
little  incident  aforementioned  in  a  tone  of  indignation 
which  sent  Lady  Vanborough  into  fits  of  laughing. 

"  My  dearest  Kittie,  don't  you  know  that  it  is  a  spe- 
cialty of  lawyers  to  draw  you  out  without  committing 
themselves  ?  But  I  wonder  you  didn't  guess  anything  from 
the  way  in  which  he  dashed  cold  water  on  Dick's  little  de- 
sires. Not  that  I  would  have  let  the  young  man  come 
here  to  look  at  my  property.  I  dare  say  he  was  longing 
to  punch  your  brother's  head.  Why — ha!  ha!  ha! — he 
must  have  thought  it  was  bringing  her  from  Scylla  to 
Charybdis  if  he  was  to  find  rivals  here." 

"I  do  not  think  he  need  have  been  afraid  of  Dick,'' 
said  Kate,  a  little  haughtily.  "We  are  rather  ambitious 
for  him ;  and  a  lady  companion,  however  charming — but 
who  was  the  Scylla  ?  " 

"Well,  my  dear,  remember  this  is  told  in  confidence.' 
"If  it  was  \.o\(\.you  in  confidence,  Bee,  you  had  better 
not  repeat  it  again." 

"  My  child,  your  ultra-honorable  scruples  do  you  credit. 
He  never  said  anything  about  my  not  telling  you.  In- 
deed, he  said  very  little  at  all,  only  that  little  implied  a 
good  deal.  It  seems  her  husband,  of  whom  she  was  de- 
votedly fond,  left  her  very  badly  oil,  poor  thing !  (an  un- 
l)ardonable  sin  in  husbands,  in  my  opinion  ;  but  that's  not 
to  the  point)  and  that  she  lived  with  a  spinster  cousin, 
possessed  of  a  nice  little  annuity,  in  a  small  cottage  be- 
longing to  the  Rev.  Mr.  Clive,  Bernard's  father.  This 
cottage  is  almost  attached  to  the  rectory  ;  and  she  won  all 


122  PRE  TTY  MISS  BELLE  IV. 

hearts  at  the  latter  place  in  a  jiffey,  most  particularly  that 
of  Bernard's  brother,  who  lives  at  home  as  his  father's 
curate.  In  fact,  they  one  and  all  thought  so  much  of 
her,  that  when  her  cousin,  an  awful  invalid,  went  to  the 
other  world,  taking  her  annuity  with  her  (in  my  opinion, 
Kate,  people  who  buy  annuities  are  the  meanest  and 
most  selfish  creatures  in  the  world ;  but  that's  not  to  the 
point,  either),  the  Clives  insisted  on  her  coming  to  the 
rectory  and  staying  with  them.  She  wanted  (she  is  dis- 
gustingly proud,  you  know)  to  get  a  situation  as  compan- 
ion or  housekeeper  at  some  country  house  at  once;  but 
naturally  Mr.  Philip  Clive  wouldn't  hear  of  that,  and 
egged  on  the  others  to  persuade  her  into  remaining  with 
them,  for  a  time  at  least.  The  rector  is  blind,  you  know, 
and  Mrs.  Grey  used  to  read  and  write  for  him,  so  that  the 
widowed  daughter,  who  likes  society,  was  left  more  free 
for  it ;  and  then  she  worked  for  and  visited  the  poor  for 
Mr.  Philip,  and  taught  the  litde  girl,  and  sang  for  Bernard 
when  he  came  down — in  fact,  became  the  most  useful 
member  of  the  family  (you  should  see  what  a  lot  of  things 
she  does  for  me,  and  all  with  such  a  stately  sort  of  sweet- 
ness), and  was  looked  on  as  quite  one  of  them  until  the 
curate  went  and  proposed.  Bernard  was  in  London. 
He  only  runs  down  for  flying  visits  to  Woodleigh ;  and 
Mr.  Philip  took  advantage  of  the  coast  being  clear  to  try 
his  luck  and — -fail!" 

"  She  preferred  the  other,  then  ?  "  said  Kate,  interested, 
as  all  girls  are,  in  a  love-story.  "  How  disagreeable  the 
brother  must  be!" 

"Jhat  is  a  matter  of  taste,  my  child.  /like  Bernard 
Clive.  At  any  rate,  Philip  was  refused,  and  wouldn't — 
positively  wouldn't — take  his  refusal  :  went  half  crazy  on 
the  subject,  declaring  he  would  follow  her  everywhere^ 
when  she  said  she  would  leave  Woodleigh  unless  he  de- 
sisted, and  persecuting  her  with  tears,  threats,  and  en- 
treaties, till  at  last  she  fairly  bolted — chose  a  day  when 
he  had  gone  to  preach  a  charity  sermon  at  the  nearest 
town,  and  the  sister — who,  oddly  enough,  rather  took  his 
part — was  somewhere  else,  and  quietly  Avalked  off  with 
her  few  possessions,  bidding  good-bye  to  the  rector  at  the 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 


123 


last  moment  and  without  saying  where  she  was  going, 
and  merely  leaving  a  very  grateful  farewell  letter  for  the 
others.  Young  Clive  traced  her  easily  to  a  town  about 
five  miles  off,  and  there  lost  the  clue,  and  has  never  re- 
gained it  (I  believe  one  of  those  passionate  entreaties 
which  appear  addressed  to  'A.  G.  Myrtles,'  in  the  second 
column  of  the  Times  every  now  and  then,  is  from  him), 
and  I  dare  say  he  would  be  ready  to  kill  Bernard  if  he 
knew  that  gentleman  was  acquainted  with  her  where- 
abouts— " 

"  But  he  will  have  to  know  some  day,"  broke  in  Kate. 
*'  I  do  not  like  the  brother,  Bee.  If  she  prefers  Bernard, 
he  ought  to  have  yielded  directly.  Persecuting  a  woman 
is  not  love.  It  is  not  even  manly.  I  am  vexed  with  Mr. 
Clive,  too.  Seeing  that  his  brother,  who  knew  her  first, 
loved  her  so  passionately,  he  ought  to  have  kept  out  of 
her  way.  He  ought  never  even  to  have  let  her  love  him. 
I  would  not  come  between  Eve  and  any  one  she  cared  for. 
Bee,  it  is  very  unkind  of  you  to  laugh  at  me.  You 
have  no  brothers  and  sisters,  so  you  do  not  know.  They 
are  not  a  nice  family.  I  would  not  like  to  be  one  of 
them." 

'"Nobody  asked  you,  sir,'  she  said,"  sang  Lady  Bee, 
in  her  full,  clear  voice,  and  with  a  most  provoking  accent. 
"  Kate,  your  notions  are  beautifully  fresh  and  green ;  but 
'wait  a  wee,'  as  the  Scotch  say.  They  won't  wash.  No 
man  living,  if  he  honestly  loves  a  woman,  and  is  loved  by 
her,  will  give  her  up,  and  'let  concealment  prey  upon  his 
what-you-may-call-'em  cheek,'  because  his  brother  happens 
to  have  taken  a  mad  fancy  for  her." 

"  Not  unless  he  should  chance  to  love  his  brother  more 
than  the  woman,  I  suppose?"  said  Kate.  "I  daresay 
you  are  right.  Bee.  I  don't  profess  to  know  much  about 
such  things  yet;  but  still,  I  don't  think  any  the  better  of 
Mr.  Clive  for  not  openly  claiming  her,  instead  of  hiding 
it  up.  I  can't  bear  secrets — secrets  among  families 
especially.  He  ought  to  marry  her  at  once  if  he  is  going 
to  do  it  at  all,  and  then  she  would  be  protected  from 
every  one.  I  can't  think  why  he  doesn't,  or  why  he  lets 
her  be  a  companion." 


124 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 


"  I  expect  she  has  some  voice  in  that  matter,  my  dear. 
She  says  she  won't  marry  at  all." 

"But  I  don't  understand.  I  thought  you  implied  they 
were  engaged." 

"  Not  pubhcly.  Oh,  no  !  I  don't  think  it  has  come- to 
that ;  but  they  make  very  little  concealment  of  their  re- 
gard for  one  another;  and  I  expect  he  is  pretty  sure  of 
his  success.  Indeed,  why  otherwise  should  she  have  sent 
for  him  when  she  fled  from  Philip,  and  made  him  her 
confidant  and  cavalier  sertmnte?  But  some  widows,  you 
know,  like  holding  out  and  protesting  unalterable  devotion 
to  the  dear  departed,  till  the  very  day  that  they  are  led  to 
the  altar  by  the  dear  secundusP 

"Then  it  is  very  silly  of  them,"  said  Kate,  with  youth- 
ful severity,  "and  I  don't  think  much  of  your  beautiful 
heroine  for  giving  all  this  useless  pain  and  trouble  for  the 
sake  of  such  a  folly.  If  /  loved  any  one,  and  he  asked 
me  to  marry  him,  I  should  say,  '  Yes,  please,'  at  once, 
and  jump  for  joy  when  he  was  gone.  Why  don't  you 
speak  to  her.  Bee,  and  tell  her — " 

"  Speak  to  her ! "  cried  Bee  Vanborough,  again  sub- 
jecting Dottie  to  the  shuttlecock  process,  until  that 
much-enduring  little  damsel  looked  as  if  she  were  expe- 
riencing a  storm  at  sea.  "  But  you  haven't  seen  Averil 
Grey,  or  you  wouldn't  ask  that  question.  Why,  I  would 
no  more  speak  to  her  about  her  private  affairs  unless  she 
introduced  them,  than  take  the  Queen  to  task  for  wearing 
the  abominably  shabby  bonnets  she  does.  I'm  bold 
enough  in  general,  but  there  a7'e  lengths  to  which  '  colo- 
nial bishops  cannot  go'  {vide '■^zh'  ballads).  She's  the 
most  reserved  and  the  most  companionable  woman  you 
ever  met — will  talk  of  Woodleigh,  the  rector,  and  all  of 
them,  for  an  hour,  without  ever  giving  you  an  idea  of  the 
young  man's  admiration  of  herself;  and  will  hardly  ever 
allude  to  the  husband  she  adored,  though  I'm  sure  I'm 
always  telling  her  of  poor  dear  Vanborough — when  I  can 
thmk  of  anything  about  him  to  tell  her,  at  least.  No; 
we  are  going  off  on  a  quiet  little  trip  to  Norway  in  the 
summer,  and  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  we  met  Bernard 
Clive  somewhere  among  the  woods  and  fjords.     In  that 


I 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 


125 


case  of  course  I  shall  ask  him  to  join  us.  Mrs.  Grey  will 
saj' nothing,  and  look  neutrally  remonstrating;  and  the 
end  of  it  will  be  that  just  as  I've  grown  not  to  know  what 
to  do  without  her,  she  will  calmly  tell  me  she  is  going  to 
be  married  next  week,  and  I  shall  have  to  give  them  a 
wedding-breakfast,  and  say,  '  B-b-bless  you,  my  children,' 
with  the  best  grace  I  can." 

"Me's  had  my  betfast  an'  my  dinner  too,  me's  had," 
said  Dottie,  suddenly  growing  tired  of  playing  audience 
and  striking  into  the  dialogue.  "  Me  has  bed  an'  milt 
for  my.  betfast,  an'  nurse  puts  sudar  in  when  me's  dood — 
bwown  sudar.     Does  00  lite  bwown  sudar?" 

"Better  than  any  other  delicacy  in  the  world,"  Lady 
Vanborough  answered,  clasping  her  hands  in  the  fervor 
of  her  acquiescence.  "  Hark  !  isn't  that  the  bell  ?  Now 
commence  my  visitors  and  my  visitors'  twaddle.  Well, 
Kate,  what  are  you  tidgeting  for  ?  " 

"  I  was  looking  to  see  whether  Dick  was  coming,"  said 
Kate,  coming  back  from  an  excursion  to  the  window. 
"He  promised  to  call  for  me  at  a  quarter  ])ast  three;  and 
I  came  early  that  I  might  have  a  talk  with  you  before  your 
visitors  came." 

Lady  Vanborough  laughed. 

"The  last  thing  that  most  of  my  visitors  desire!  I 
have  an  '  at  home '  to-day,  and  they  come  to  it;  but  they 
don't  want  to  see  me,  and  I  don't  want  to  see  them. 
Mrs.  A.  comes  that  she  may  say,  '  I  always  go  to  Lady 
Vanborough's  Fridays.'  It's  the  handle  she  cares  about, 
not  the  name  or  the  person.  Mrs.  B.  because  I  can  get 
hold  of  professional  singers,  and  she  likes  hearing  good 
music  gratis.  Miss  C.  to  meet  Mr.  D. ;  and  Mr.  D.  to 
meet  Miss  C.  It's  not  for  me,  bless  you,  or  my  society, 
that  my  house  gets  filled  so  full  that —  Ah  !  Mrs.  Dela- 
mayne,  how  d'you  do?  How  is  your  sister?  Last  time 
I  saw  her  she  was  flirting  so  abominably  on  Lady  Pea- 
cock's stairs  with  young  Dalziels  that —  Mr.  de  Pon- 
sonby,  how  do  you  do  ?  ^Vi•len  are  you  going  to  come 
of  age  again,  and  collect  another  delightful  crowd,  to 
dance  with  each  other  and  make  believe  it  is  for  your 
sake? — Mrs.  van  Doom,  you  don't  mean  to  say  you've 


1 2  6  PRE  TTY  MISS  BELLE  W. 

come  again  without  your  husband,  when  you  know  how 
fond  I  am  of  him,  and  that  I  only  ask  you  on  his  ac- 
count !  —  How  are  you,  Mr.  Bellew  ?  You  look  aw- 
fully seedy.  At  the  opera  last  night  ?  More  shame  for 
you  then,  /never  go  in  Lent,  or  till  the  week  after 
Easter,  on  principle  (they  never  have  anything  worth 
hearing  till  then).  Come  for  your  sister  ?  Oh,  nonsense  ! 
I'm  not  going  to  let  her  go.  I  like  her  a  great  deal  bet- 
ter than  I  do  you." 

"  But  I  must  go  now,"  said  Kate,  coming  forward  to 
her  brother's  rescue.  (He  was  not  fond  of  Lady  Van- 
borough's  jokes).  "I  promised  mamma  to  be  back  by 
half-past  three.  Eve  is  very  unwell.  That  is  why  I 
brought  Dottie  out,  for  we  don't  know  if  she  is  sickening 
for  anything;  and  Miss  Smith  left  yesterday  for  her 
Easter  holidays ;  so  good-bye." 

"  Good-bye,  my  child,"  said  Bee,  kissing  her.  "  You've 
meanly  escaped  telling  me  anything  about — you  know 
■who.  Nevermind,  if  Eve  is  going  to  have  the  small-pox, 
or  anything  (which  Heaven  forbid!)  you'll  have  to  come 
here  out  of  the  way,  and  I  shall  hear  all  about  it. — Mr. 
Bellew,  please  tell  your  friend  Clive  that  now  his  recess 
has  come  he  has  no  excuse  for  avoiding  my  Fridays.  I 
haven't  got  the  plague." 

And  then  at  last  the  young  Bellews  got  away,  and  found 
themselves  on  the  stairs.  A  tall  lady  in  black  was  com- 
ing up  at  the  same  time,  and  put  out  a  quick,  kindly  hand 
to  save  Dottie  trom  stumbling;. 

"Dat's  a  pwetty  lady,"  said  Dottie,  with  infantine 
frankness,  and  tugging  at  Kate's  hand  to  attract  her  at- 
tention ;  and  Kate,  glancing  upwards  with  a  smile  of 
thanks,  looked  admiringly  into  one  of  the  fairest  and  no- 
blest faces  she  had  ever  seen. 


_chaptp:r  XI ii. 

A  PRIVATE  VIEW. 

'^  TT  must  have  been  the  companion,"  said  Kate,  as 
]_  they  turned  into  the  street,  where  a  bright  sun  and 
strong  breeze  caught  Httle  Dottie's  hair,  and  blew  it  about 
Uke  sparks  of  gold.  Dick  had  to  put  a  hand  to  his  hat 
before  answering. 

"What  companion  ?  Oh!  Bee  Vanborough's !  Non- 
sense !  Clive  said  she  was  as  ugly  as  sin.  By  the  way, 
Kittie,  I  can't  think  how  you,  who  are  sensible  enough  in 
general,  can  put  up  with  a  woman  like  that.  I  never 
heard  such  a  confounded  clack  in  all  my  life.  I  do  think 
she  thinks  of  all  the  rudest  things  beforehand  that  she 
can  say,  and  then  says  them." 

It  seemed  poor  Kate's  fate  to  hear  her  favorites  abus- 
ing one  another;  and  I  fear  Bee  would  hardly  have  been 
satisfied  with  her  championship  in  this  case ;  for  she  only 
gave  a  little  sigh  and  said,  resignedly : 

"She  does  not  mean  it,  Dick ;  it's  only  her  way." 
"Then  I  wish  to  Heaven  she'd  amend  her  ways,"  said 
Dick,  petulantly.     "  Look  here,  what  have  we  got  this 
brat  with  us  for  ?     I've  got  a  card  for  the  private  view  of 

's  Academy  pictures ;  and  I  thought  you  would  like 

to  go  with  me;    but   I'm  not  going  to  drag  a  parcel  of 
children  at  my  heels." 

"Poor  little  jjarcel!"  said  Kate,  looking  down  with  a 
merry  laugh  at  the  tiny  woman  trotting  along  at  her  side, 
in  happy  unconsciousness  of  her  brother's  objection  to 
her  presence.  "I'm  afraid  I  must  take  her  home  now, 
anyhow,  or  she'll  be  tired.    Couldn't  we  go  to-morrow  ?" 

127 


1 28  ^^^'  TTY  MISS  BELLE  IV. 

"  No,  he  sends  it  in  to-morrow.  Well,  we  shall  have 
to  go  out  again  after  leaving  the  little  bothei"  at  home.  I 
mustn't  be  later  than  four,  or  M'Kenzie  will  think  I'm 
not  coming." 

"Oh!  it  is  he,"  said  Kate,  with  a  sudden  recollection 

of  having  expressed  her  admiration  of 's  pictures  to 

Mr.  M'Kenzie  a  few  days  previously.      "How  very  kind 
he  is !     I  hope  mamma  will  not  want  me." 

Mamma  did  not.  When  did  Lady  Margaret  want  one 
of  her  children,  unless  that  one  desired  to  be  with  her  ? 
Their  pleasure  was  her  law;  and  just  now  she  was  look- 
ing anxious  and  preoccupied. 

"  I'm  afraid  Eve  is  going  to  be  seriously  ill ;  her  throat 
is  so  sore,  and  she  is  terribly  feverish.  No,  my  love,  you 
can  be  no  good.  She  can't  bear  any  one  in  the  room ; 
and  I  would  rather  not  have  you  in  the  way  till  I  know 
what  it  is.  Go  with  Dick  by  all  means  ;  he  will  be  out 
of  mischief  then;"  and  with  a  heavy  sigh,  and  her  cap 
dangling  on  one  side  of  her  head,  Lady  Margaret  went 
away  again  to  her  sick  child.  Kate  came  downstairs 
looking  depressed. 

"I  hope  Eve  is  not  going  to  be  really  ill,"  she  said, 
with  a  very  dolorous  face,  as  Dick  helped  her  into  the 
hansom  which  was  waiting  at  the  door ;  and  her  brother 
pooh-poohed  the  notion,  reminding  her  that  Eve  was 
always  ailing. 

"Those  peeky  people  always  make  much  more  fuss 
than  is  necessary.  Why,  I've  got  a  thundering  head- 
ache at  this  moment,  only  I  don't  say  anything  about  it." 

This,  of  course,  was  meant  to  be  unanswerable ;  so  be- 
yond an  expression  of  pity  for  the  headache,  Kate  said 
nothing;  but,  all  the  same,  her  mind  would  revert  to 
Eve,  and  remained  there  until  the  hansom  drew  up  with 
a  jerk  in  front  of  a  low  wall  with  a  door  in  it,  and  strag- 
gling, yellow-blossomed  creepers  hanging  over  the  top  on 
to  the  outside  :  a  wall  which  shut  in  one  of  those  small, 
quaint-looking  old  houses  in  faded  red  brick,  which  still 
exist  in  Kensington  ;  and  outside  which  a  gentleman  was 
pacing  to  and  fro,  as  if  waiting  for  some  one. 

It  was  Mr.  M'Kenzie,  and  as  he  came  forward  with  a 


PRE  TTY  MISS  BELLE  IV.  i  , ^ 

bright,  pleased  smile  on  his  dark  face,  Kate  forgot  about 
the  home  anxieties.  She  was  very  young,  you  sec,  only 
nineteen;  and  to  her  mind  this  stranger  had  even  a 
sweeter  face  than  Dick's  (!)  [N.  B.  I  mention  this  com- 
parison to  show  you  that  Kate's  ideas  of  beauty  were  not 
always  founded  on  strictly  artistic  principles.  Yet  it  was 
true  that  just  now  that  animated  Southern  face  looked 
wonderfully  handsome,  relieved  against  the  mingled  reds 
and  ochres  of  the  old  wall,  with  its  dainty  tracing  of  green 
leafage  hanging  over  it,  and  the  blue  sky  drifted  with 
white  above.] 

The  very  street  was  washed  clean  by  recent  rains,  and 
dried  to  a  country  whiteness  in  the  fresh  spring  breeze; 
and  in  the  neighboring  gardens  the  may  was  all  breaking 
into  white  and  rosy  blossom.  In  another  week,  and  while 
its  country  sisters  were  as  yet  barely  budded  with  green, 
it  would  be  so  snowed  over  with  perfumed  color,  that  the 
vivid  emerald  of  the  leaves,  now  so  beautiful,  would  be 
lost  altogether. 

"What  a  lovely  Easter!"  Mr.  M'Kenzie  said,  as  he 
assisted  Kate  to  alight.  "Certainly,  even  London  is 
beautiful  in  some  seasons.  No,  you  have  not  kept  me 
waiting.  I  gave  your  brother  the  ticket  in  case  I  should 
arrive  before  or  after  you ;  but  the  day  is  too  fine  to  be 
wasted  in-doors.  Kind  of  me !  How  can  you  say  .so  ? 
It  was  a  kindness  to  myself;  for  I  so  seldom  meet  with  any 
one  who  really  and  heartily  cares  for  art  as  I  do  myself; 
and  you  seem  to  enjoy  it  even  more  keenly.  I  think" — 
with  a  sigh  and  a  look  half-kind,  half-curious — "you  en- 
joy everything.     It  is  very  pleasant." 

"I  do,"  said  Kate;  "I  enjoy  things  dreadfully.  Don't 
you  ?  " — a  pitiful  appreciation  in  her  tone  of  the  sadness 
of  his. 

"Not  now.  I  did  once;  but  I  seem  to  have  used  up 
enjoyment,  and  pain  too,  since  then.  The  greatest  pleas- 
ure I  have  now" — and  his  smile  was  very  pleasant  as  he 
said  it — "is  to  do  what  I  can  in  contributing  to  the  enjoy- 
ment of  those  young  enough  to  take  it,  and  blossom 
brightly  over  it  as  you  do — and  as  that  may-tree  does  in 
the  sunshine.  No  sun  has  much  effect  on  that  withered 
9 


j^o  PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 

sycamore-tree  in  the  corner,  you  see ;  and  yet  I  suppose 
even  it  has  been  green  and  pleasant  in  its  day." 

Kate  did  not  think  Mr.  M'Kenzie  looked  much  like  a 
withered  sycamore ;  yet  she  felt  sorry  for  him  somehow. 
It  was  not  only  the  sad  tone  in  his  voice,  but  he  looked 
as  though  the  storms  had  come  into  his  life  and  laid  it 
bare  at  some  time  or  another.  All  the  more  reason,  she 
thought,  for  appreciating  the  pleasant  brightness  and 
verdure  which  remained.  He  was  rather  fond  of  talking 
in  allegories,  and  she  liked  it.  You  would  not  have 
thought  there  was  an  ounce  of  poetry  in  Kate's  whole 
nature;  but  there  was,  although  it  was  hidden  rather 
deep,  and  did  not  often  rise  to  the  surface.  Indeed,  she 
was  rather  ashamed  of  it  herself;  and  certain  old  copy- 
books and  untidy  quires  of  paper  filled  with  blotted 
verses,  and  wonderfully  youthful  romances,  were  stowed 
snugly  away  in  a  boot-closet  in  her  room,  where  no  eye 
but  her  own  and  Dick's  had  ever  seen  them :  not  his 
since  he  had  grown  up  and  become  a  man.  Unpublished 
contributions  to  the  over-published  world  of  literature 
they  were,  which  she  often  glanced  lovingly  over  even 
now ;  and  now  and  then  added  to  by  a  few  lines,  gener- 
ally written  when  she  was  either  out  of  spirits  or  too 
excited  for  prose :  verses  which  would  have  made  you 
die  with  laughter  to  read ;  only  Kate  took  very  good 
care  no  one  should  read  them.  Mr.  M'Kenzie,  she 
thought,  talked  as  if  he  could  write  poetry  too — good 
poetry — and  yet  would  not  despise  those  blurred,  over- 
exalte  effusions  of  hers  in  the  boot-closet.  They  were 
her  pet  and  only  secret;  and  yet,  though  she  had  known 
this  stranger  only  one  fortnight,  she  felt  as  if  she  would 
have  minded  his  discovering  them  less  than  any  of  her 
oldest  friends. 

Just  now  he  was  putting  her  in  the  best  place  for  see- 
ing one  of  the  principal  pictures  to  appear  in  that  year's 
Academy ;  foraging  for  a  chair  for  her  lest  she  should  be 
tired ;  and  keeping  close  at  her  side,  that  he  might  tell 
her  the  names  of  the  dozen  or  so  of  notorieties  who  had 
also  got  permission  for  a  private  view  of  the  great  work. 

"That  tall  thin  woman,  with  the  dark  intellectual  face 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEVV.  131 

and  graceful  manner,  is  Miss  Antonia  S ,  the  American 

contralto;  and  that  other  dark,  vivacious,  flighty  litde 
woman,  is  the  popular  novelist,  whose  last  book  I  found 
on  your  .  table  last  Thursday.  That  eccentric,  pre- 
Raphaelite-looking  little  creature,  with  the  slashed  gown, 
and  flame-colored  feathers  round  her  head,  is  the  wife 
of  a  water-color  artist,  and  dresses  after  his  mediaeval 
conceptions.  Don't  you  wonder  she  dare  face  the  London 
gamifts  without  getting  hooted  ?  And  that  pretty,  lady- 
like-looking girl,  is  Miss  C ,  the  principal  actress  at  the 

'  Parnassus.'" 

"  You  know  every  one,"  said  Kate,  whose  eyes  were 
eager  with  interest ;  "  and  yet  you  have  been  such  a  little 
while  in  London.  I  wonder  how  you  manage  it.  We 
seem  to  be  the  only  jjeoplc  who  are  nothing  particular  in 
the  room.  Do  you  know,  it  makes  me  feel  terribly  in- 
significant." 

"Does  it?"  said  Mr.  M'Kenzie,  smiling.  "You  look 
— but  I  am  not  going  to  tell  you  how  you  look ;  only  old 
privileged  friends  may  always  speak  truths.  Look  at  this 
instead,"  and  he  brought  her  a  small  vase  full  of  feather- 
flowers  most  excjuisitely  made  and  grouped.  Kate  ad- 
mired them.     They  were  very  curious. 

"To  good  to  be  put  on  the  same  table  with  this  ?"  and 
he  took  up  a  glass  containing  a  single  freshly-plucked 
spray  of  acacia-blossoms,  white  as  snow  and  sweet  as 
honey. 

"Oh!"  said  Kate,  and  plunged  her  little  nose  delight- 
edly into  the  flowers.     "How  lovely!  how  fresh!" 

"So  I  think,"  said  M'Kenzie,  smiling  still.  "I  prefer 
them.  Things  fresh  and  sweet  are  always  better  than 
rarities  in  my  opinion." 

Kate  made  no  answer,  but  buried  her  nose  the  deeper, 
feeling  angry  with  herself  because  her  rebellious  cheeks 
would  give  token  that  she  understood.  I  tliink  he  saw 
the  annoyance,  but  was  not  sure  at  whom  it  was  directed. 
At  any  rate,  he  moved  quietly  away,  and  began  talking 
to  their  host ;  and  before  he  came  back,  Dick  was  at  his 
sister's  side,  suggesting  that  they  should  go.  Poor  Dick  I 
he  soon  got  tired  of  pictures,  or  anything  that  was  not 


132  PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 

exciting;  and  the  actress,  the  only  person  present  whom 
he  knew,  was  surrounded  by  a  group  of  favored  acquaint- 
ances, and  merely  honored  him  with  the  briefest  of  nods. 
Dick,  who  had  seen  her  often  before,  and  once  or  twice 
behind  the  scenes,  was  huffed,  and  carried  off  his  sister 
before  she  felt  at  all  inclined  for  a  move. 

Mr.  M'Kenzie  went  with  them,  and  a  hansom  being 
out  of  the  question  for  three,  they  all  walked  home  very 
contentedly ;  even  Mr.  Bellew  recovering  his  good  tem- 
per in  the  sweet  air  and  sunshine.  Kate  thought  Mr. 
M'Kenzie  had  never  made  himself  so  pleasant.  Revert- 
ing from  the  feather-flowers  to  Mexico,  he  talked  about 
his  travels  there,  breaking  off  to  tell  of  a  bear-fight  in  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  and  one  among  the  California  dig- 
gings. He  seemed  to  have  been  everywhere  in  the  New 
World ;  and  Kate,  who  had  never  read  Bret  Harte,  and 
still  cherished  a  youthful  affection  for  Mayne  Reid,  hst- 
ened  with  parted  lips  and  radiant  eyes,  a  very  child  in 
her  pleasure  at  being  "told  a  story."  It  was  pleasant 
talking  to  such  an  eager  listener,  looking  down  now  and 
then  into  the  lifted  rosy  face,  and  provoking  the  little  im- 
petuous half-questions  and  broken  comments :  pleasant 
even  to  a  man  who  tried  to  persuade  himself  that  he  had 
done  with  pleasure.  Dallas  M'Kenzie  had  known  what 
love  was  in  his  younger  life,  and  had  repented  him  of  the 
knowledge  so  bitterly  that  he  had  never  thought  even  to 
like  a  girl  heartily  again ;  but  he  could  not  help  liking 
Kate,  and  he  acknowledged  it. 

A  faint  mist  was  rising,  and  behind  it  the  sun,  like  a 
blood-red  hand,  pointed  a  fiery  path  between  the  trees  in 
Hyde  Park,  and  tinged  the  under  side  of  the  leaves  and 
twigs  with  flame.  Long  streaks  of  violet  cloud,  lined 
with  red,  floated  across  the  western  sky.  It  was  getting 
late,  Kate  thought,  as  she  saw  their  shadows  lengthy  and 
crooked  on  the  pavement  before  them. 

They  were  just  reaching  the  house,  and  a  little  chill  ran 
through  her ;  for  the  face  of  the  page,  who  opened  the 
door,  was  as  long  as  a  coflin. 

Her  voice  was  quite  faint  with  inward  misgiving,  as  she 
asked   M'Kenzie  if  he  would   come  in,  and  there  was 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW.  133 

such  an  anxious  inquiry  in  her  large  eyes  that  Buttons 
answered  as  if  addressed  : 

"  Miss  Eve  is  much  worse,  miss ;  very  bad  indeed ;  and 
the  doctor's  coming  again  in  the  evening." 

And  Kate  had  been  enjoying  herself !  Poor  girl!  she 
staggered  a  little  with  the  shock,  and  her  face  grew  so 
pale  that  Mr.  M'Kenzie  put  out  his  hand,  and  took  hers  as 
if  to  support  her. 

"  Do  not  look  so  alarmed,"  he  said,  kindly,  almost  as 
though  he  were  speaking  to  a  child;  "it  may  be  only  a 
slight  attack.  The  doctor  will  give  a  better  report  in  the 
evening,  and  you  mustn't  lose  heart  before  you  hear  it." 

The  friendly  tone,  the  warm  friendly  clasp,  brought 
back  the  blood  again  into  her  cheeks. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said,  gratefully,  the  ready  tears  start- 
ing to  her  eyes;  "you  are  very  kind.  Will  you  come  to- 
morrow and  hear  how  she  is  ?  " 

"I  will  come  every  day  until  you  can  give  me  good 
new^s,  and  that,  I  hope,  won't  be  long,"  he  answered, 
smiling;  "only  keep  up  your  spirits  now,"  and  then  he 
gave  her  fingers  a  final  cordial  sijueeze  and  went  away. 

Dick  had  been  speaking  to  the  page,  and  now  followed 
Kate  upstairs  with  a  very  lugubrious  face. 

"  I  say,  Kittie,  Tom  says  it  is  scarlet  fever.  That's  in- 
fectious, you  know,  and  they  say  a  fellow  may  have  it  any 
number  of  times — I  wish  to  goodness  I'd  stayed  at  Ox- 
ford. It  may  be  in  the  air  even  here.  Look  here,  you 
know,  I'm  not  going  to  stay  in  the  house  with  anything 
catching." 

"I  will  go  to  mamma  and  see,"  said  Kate,  gently. 
Were  there  times  when  even  her  love  failed  to  bridge 
over  the  gulf  of  Dick's  selfishness  ? 

It  was  infectious — a  particularly  bad  case  of  scarlet 
fever,  the  doctor  said ;  and  Lady  Margaret — in  an  equal 
agony  of  alarm  for  the  sick  child  above,  and  the  well  chil- 
dren below — forbade  Kate  all  share  in  the  nursing,  and 
exiled  all  but  herself  and  the  nurse  from  the  floor  where 
Eve  was  invalided.  The  others  were  packed  downstairs 
as  they  best  could  be,  Dick  having  a  bed  made  up  in  the 
schoolroom.     It  was  not  a  ver}-  comfortable  apartment, 


134 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 


but  being  further  from  the  disease  than  anywhere  else — 
except  the  kitchen — he  kindly  refrained  from  grumbhng 
more  than  a  httle.  After  all  it  was  only  a  temporary  ar- 
rangement. The  doctor  himself  recommended  that  all 
but  the  invalid  and  those  in  attendance  on  her  should  be 
sent  out  of  the  house  as  speedily  as  possible;  and  on  the 
following  day  Lady  Margaret,  well  soaked  in  camphor- 
ated spirits,  but  in  a  lamentably  disheveled  condition  as 
to  hair  and  attire,  called  Kate  into  her  rooni  to  consult 
about  the  when  and  where  of  departure. 

"But  not  me,  mamma,"  said  Kate,  eagerly,  "I  have 
had  it." 

"  My  dear  child,  that  is  nothing.  You  might  take 
it  again." 

"But,  mamma,  is  it  likely  ?  and  I  am  not  a  bit  afraid, 
and  could  help  you  so  much  in  nursing  poor  Evey.  Do 
let  me  stay,  mother  dear.  Bee  Vanborough  wrote  to  me 
to-day,  asking  me  to  come  to  her,  and  bring  Dottie, 
as  Mrs.  Grey  is  very  fond  of  children ;  but  I  said,  '  No, 
I  wouldn't  leave  you  on  any  account.' " 

"  But  you  must  leave  me,  Kate.  The  doctor  says  so. 
Don't  give  trouble  about  it,  love,"  Lady  Margaret  said, 
w^istfuUy,  "  I  don't  know  whether  I  am  standing  on  my 
head  or  heels  as  it  is,  and  if  you  were  laid  up  too — but 
that  is  nonsense.     You  must  all  go  away  at  once." 

"Dick  is  going  to  Mr.  Clive,"  said  Katie.  "He  asked 
him  at  once;  and  Mr.  M'Kenzie  wants  us  to  let  him 
take  George.  He  says  he  has  lots  of  room  for  him,  and 
is  very  fond  of  boys.  Is  it  not  kind  of  Mr.  M'Kenzie, 
mamma  ?" 

"It  is  kinder  of  Bernard  Clive,  who  has  only  one 
room,  and  has  offered  that  to  Dick,"  said  Lady  Margaret, 
gravely.  "  Unfortunately,  however,  that  is  the  very 
thing —  Kate,  would  you  think  me  very  unkind — both  of 
you,  I  mean — if  I  said,  'Don't  go  to  Bee  Vanborough 
or  Bernard  Clive  ? '  " 

"Why,  mamma,"  said  Kate,  wondering.  "I  have 
already  refused  to  go  to  Bee.     I  want  to  stay  here." 

"  My  love,  you  can't  stay  here.  Pray  don't  say  any 
more  about  that.     If  only  for  Dick's  sake,  I  should  want 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW.  ^3^ 

ycu  to  go  away,  so  that  he  may  not  be  alone.  Kate,  it 
will  never  do,  his  staying  in  London  during  the  season. 
It  is  bad  enough  at  home;  but  there  in  the  Temple, 
within  reach  of  every  gaiety  and  dissipation,  it  would 
never  do.  I  have  been  racking  my  brain  for  the  last 
week,  to  think  of  some  plan  for  getting  him  out  of  Lon- 
don. Only  the  day  before  yesterday  he  came  for  more 
money,  and  I  had  given  him  ten  pounds  the  week  before. 
Where  it  had  gone.  Heaven  knows;  the  poor  dear  boy 
gets  so  cross  if  one  asks  him  the  least  question.  And 
then  Uncle  Theo.  is  quite  furious  about  his  being  here. 
Lie  declares  that  the  unfortunate  child  got  himself  rus- 
ticated on  purpose  to  be  up  for  the  whole  season,  and 
that  unless  I  s-send  him  away  at  once  he  w-won't  give 
you  one  bit  of  help  or  kindness  in  the  future — none  of 
you." 

Lady  Margaret  began  to  weep. 

"Uncle  Theo.  is  so  hard,  so  wickedly  hard  on  poor 
Dick,"  cried  Kate,  kneeling  down  by  her  mother  and 
kissing  her  fondlingly.  "  He  can't  understand  him  ;  and 
I  don't  see  what  right  he  has  to  make  you  cry,  and  order 
us  about.  Help,  indeed  !  Let  him  not  help,"  cried  the 
young  lady,  with  lofty  independence,  nestling  her  head 
on  to  her  mother's  shoulder  the  while ;  "  we  can  do  with- 
out him." 

"  Can  we  ?"  said  Lady  Margaret,  laughing  sadly.  "  I'm 
afraid,  Katie,  you're  rather  mistaken.  We  should  do 
very  badly  without  your  uncle's  help ;  and  he  is  quite 
right.  It  is  doing  harm  to  Dick  himself  to  keep  him 
idling  here.  If  we  could  only  fnid  some  nice  place 
where  he  could  read !     There  is  a  village — " 

"  I  rt'(?;/'/ think  he  would  like  it,  mamma,"  Kate  inter- 
rupted, with  a  shake  of  the  head,  as  if  that  settled  the 
matter. 

"  Not  alone,  my  love;  but  if  you  were  to  go,  too.  The 
dear  boy  is  very  fond  of  you,  you  know ;  ahd  listen,  Ka- 
tie. My  maid's  sister  lets  lodgings  in  Combe  Regis — did 
you  ever  hear  of  it  ? — a  little  \illage  on  the  sea-coast,  be- 
tween Devonshire  and  Somerset.  It  is  a  lovely  place, 
with  good  boating  and  fishing  (only,  for  Heaven's  sake, 


136 


rRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 


don't  get  drowned) — beautiful   walks;    and    the   rooms 
vacant  now,  so  that  you  could  go  at  once." 

"Dick  is  fond  of  fishing — and  boating,"  Kale  put  in, 
deliberately.     "We  might  make  him  like  it,  mamma." 

"  Thank  you,  love ;  and  show  him  your  uncle's  letter. 
He  would  not  like  his  allowance  cut  off.  It  is  hard  to 
send  you  away  just  at  the  beginning  of  the  season," — 
and  Lady  Margaret  stroked  her  girl's  bright  cheek  fondly 
— "but  you  will  go  to  please  me — won't  you?" 

"The  season  might  go  to  Jericho  for  all  I  care,"  said 
Kate,  ungracefully  ;  "  I  would  like  to  stay  and  nurse  Eve ; 
but,  of  course,  if  it  will  please  you — " 

"  I  could  not  send  Madge  and  Dottie  with  Dick,  even 
if  he  would  take  them,"  replied  Lady  Margaret.  "  Of 
course  you  must  go.  My  only  difficulty  now  is  about 
George.  There  are  only  two  bed-rooms  in  the  cottage, 
and  an  attic,  which  will  hold  the  maid  and  Dottie.  One 
is  large  enough  for  you  and  Madge  ;  but  Martin  says  the 
other  is  so  small,  she  is  afraid  Mr.  Dick  would  not  like  to 
take—" 

"Oh  no,"  said  Kate,  shaking  her  head  even  more  de- 
cisively; "Dick  wouldn't  stay  a  day  unless  he  had  a  room 
to  himself;  but  Mr.  M'Kenzie  is  really  anxious  to  have 
Georee.  He  said  so,  and  I  am  sure  he  means  what  he 
says." 

Lady  Margaret  looked  doubtful.  Mr.  M'Kenzie  was 
very  nice,  and  of  course  it  was  most  kind,  but  they  knew 
him  so  little.  However,  as  there  was  no  time  to  be  lost, 
Kate  had  better  write  a  pretty  note  to  thank  him  and  ac- 
cept the  offer.  "And  then  you  had  better  write  about 
the  lodgings  being  ready  for  you  to-morrow;  and  tell 
Bessie  and  Martin  to  pack  your  things." 

"If  only  I  had  not  to  go!"  Katie  said,  her  brown 
eyes  filling.  "I  know  I  must;  but,  oh,  it  would  be  so 
dreadful  if  Eve  were  to  get  worse,  and  I  be  away  or — " 

"  Don't  yoii  think  it  is  wiser  not  to  fancy  such  things  ?  " 
said  Lady  Margaret,  fondly.  "  Katie,  I  Avon't  have  you 
kissing  me  in  this  way.  I'm  not  sure  that  it's  safe  at  all. 
Go  down  and  tell  Dick  about  it  now.  Tell  him  he  is 
wanfed  to  take  care  of  you  all,  and  that  you  couldn't  go 
without  him.     He  can't  refuse." 


PRE TTY  MISS  BELLE  IV.  137 

He  did  not.  Lady  Margaret  was  right,  although  she 
spoke  in  a  doubtful  tone,  and  though  he  was  by  no  means 
wilHng  to  leave  London,  and  so  savage  on  the  subject  that 
Kate  was  obliged  to  bring  out  Uncle  Theo.'s  cruel  letter 
as  a  last  resource,  whereupon  Master  Dick  began  to  re- 
consider the  matter;  and  finally,  after  much  talking  and 
disagreeability,  submitted. 

"Wholly  on  the  girls'  account,"  he  told  Clive,  taking 
a  very  high  and  magnanimous  view  of  the  matter.  "  My 
mother  says  she  can't  send  them  to  Devonshire  unless  I 
go  to  take  care  of  them;  and  so  of  course  Lve  had  to 
agree.  It's  a  beastly  bore,  confound  it  all!  Just  at  the 
beginning  of  the  season  too!  But  of  course  a  fellow 
can't  refuse." 

"I  should  hope  not,"  said  Clive,  coolly.  '"'Then  you 
go  to-day.  Well,  Dick,  you  couldn't  have  a  better  place 
for  studying  in." 

"Oh!  hang  study!  What's  the  good  of  it?  I  shall 
never  even  get  a  second,  and  I  don't  care  about  comii>g 
out  with  the  ruck.  I  wouldn't  keep  my  name  on  the 
books  another  day  if  it  were  not  for  Uncle  Theo.  I  sup- 
pose the  old  brute  would  stop  my  allowance  directly  if  I 
left." 

"I  am  busy  now,"  said  Clive,  striving  to  bury  a  large 
amount  of  disgust  among  the  papers  by  which  he  was 
surrounded. 

"You  are  always  busy,"  retorted  Dick,  not  taking  the 
hint,  but  continuing  to  lounge  against  the  mantel-piece. 
"  I  say,  do  you  never  stop  that  eternal  treadmill  of  yours  ?  " 

"Not  often,"  said  Clive,  drily;  "I  tread  mills  for  my 
living,  remember." 

He  might  have  said,  "for  your  living,  remember,"  since 
it  was  he  who  had  taken  on  him  Dick's  debt,  and  was 
now  working  harder  than  usual  to  get  clear  of  it;  but  if 
a  disagreeable,  he  was  not  an  ungenerous  man  ;  and  re- 
frained from  all  such  speech,  going  on  with  his  writing 
instead. 

Dick  called  him  a  "penurious  old  hunks,"  and  began 
teasing  him  to  pay  them  a  visit  at  Combe  Regis.  He 
knew  he  should  get  bored  to  death  there  without  a  soul 
to  speak  to. 


138  PRETTY  MISS  BELLEIV. 

"  Isn't  your  elder  sister  going  with  you  ?  "  Clive  asked. 

"Of  course.  Didn't  I  tell  you  I  had  to  look  after  the 
girls  ?  " 

"Yes — but  I  fancied  Miss  Bellew  might  be  remaining 
at  home  to  help  her  mother  with  the  nursing." 

"Thank  you!"  cried  Dickj  "and  I  look  after  the 
brats !     Not  quite  such  a  fool ! " 

"  I  am  really  so  busy  now,  I  must  turn  you  out,"  said 
Clive ;  "  but  I  will  try  and  run  down  to  Combe  Regis 
while  you  are  there,  if  you  want  me." 

And  then  Dick  did  take  his  elbow  off  the  mantel-piece, 
and  reluctantly  departed. 

"  I  wonder  if  I  shall  knock  that  young  fellow  down  some 
day,"  thought  the  barrister,  as  the  door  closed ;  "  I've  had 
five  minds  to  do  it  this  afternoon.  Such  an  incarnation 
of  Self  surely  never  lived  before.  And  so  she  is  running 
away  from  the  infection  too.  I  thought  that  family  affec- 
tion was  strong  enough  in  her  to  have  kept  her  to  nurse 
her  sick  sister.  Probably,  like  her  brother,  she  is  only  be- 
moaning her  ill-fate  in  missing  the  season.  What  a  fool 
I  am  to  trouble  my  head  about  them  at  all ;  and  yet 
there  are  the  elements  of  good  in  her,  if  one  could  only 
get  at  them.  I  believe  any  one  she  loved  could  do  what 
he  liked  with  her. — Who's  that  ?  Didn't  I  tell  you  I  was 
engaged  ? — Why,  Philip,  what  on  earth  has  brought  you 
up?" 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

PHILIP  CLIVE. 

PHILIP  CLIVE  came  in  quickly,  putting  the  boy, 
who  had  tried  somewhat  ineilL-ctually  to  bar  his  en- 
trance, aside  with  one  firm,  quick  hand,  and  holding  out 
the  other  to  his  brother,  who  grasped  it  warmly. 

"What  a  time  it  is  since  I've  seen  you!  and  how  ill 
you  are  looking,  old  fellow!"  Bernard  said,  still  holding 
his  hand,  after  the  first  exclamation  of  greeting;  and 
then  he  looked  searchingly  into  the  face  which  bore  so 
strong  a  family  likeness  to  his  own,  but  which  had  a  hag- 
gard, feverish  look  on  it,  jilainly  discernible  in  the  pale 
yellow  sunlight  then  streaming  on  it  over  the  office 
blinds. 

Bernard  read  the  meaning  there  quickly  enough,  and 
sighed  as  he  did  so.  It  was  wonderful  to  see  the  close, 
■warm  affection  of  this  cynical  and  disagreeable  man  for 
his  own  family — the  family  who  gave  him  so  much  trouble, 
and  so  little  of  anything  else.  You  could  even  see  it  in 
the  way  in  which  he  dragged  a  big  leathern  armchair  into 
the  sunniest  corner  near  the  window,  tossing  the  books 
which  encumbered  it  on  to  the  floor,  and  pressing  his 
brother  into  it,  before  proceeding  to  rummage  in  a  cup- 
board near  the  fireplace  for  w^ine  and  other  refreshments. 
And  yet  all  the  while  he  knew  that  Philip  Clive  had  come 
up  to  town  simply  and  solely  to  give  him  fresh  trouble, 
by  insisting  on  continuing  a  search  for  the  woman  whose 
widowhood  and  privacy  he  was  protecting. 

"  Which  will  you  take — brandy  and  soda,  or  Madeira  ? 

139 


1 40  PRE  TTY  MISS  BELLE  W. 

I've  a  bottle  of  very  decent  Madeira  here,"  he  went  on, 
hospitably.  "  You  look  as  if  you  wanted  something, 
young  man." 

"  Do  I  ?  "  said  Philip.  It  was  the  first  word  he  had 
said  beyond  a  bare  greeting ;  and  before  he  added  more, 
he  poured  himself  out  a  glass  of  stiffish  brandy  and  wa- 
ter, and  drained  it  off  at  a  gulp.  "  I've  had  no  breakfast 
to-day — none  to  speak  of,  that  is.  No!  don't  ring,"  as 
the  lawyer  lifted  his  hand  to  a  bell.  "  I  couldn't  eat  if  it 
was  put  before  me.  What  do  you  think  I  have  come  up 
for?" 

"As  I  suppose  you  are  going  to  tell  me,  I'll  save  my- 
self the  trouble  of  thinking,"  said  Bernard,  laughing. 
"  What  ?  " 

"  I  fancy  I  have  got  a  clue  to  Averil  Grey,  at  last." 

"In-deed!" 

Bernard  had  been  moving  about  the  room,  poking  the 
fire  and  making  it  blaze  brightly;  but  now  he  pulled  a 
chair  forward,  his  back  to  the  light,  his  keen  blue  eyes 
upon  his  brother's  face. 

"  First  tell  me  how  my  father  is,"  he  said,  cheerfully. 

"The  governor?  Oh!  pretty  well.  Sent  his  love 
and —  But  I  was  going  to  tell  you  of  Averil — Mrs.  Grey. 
Where  do  you  think  she  came  from  before  we  knew  her?" 

"  From  Dr.  Dunn,  at  Hastings.  I  thought  you  were 
aware  of  that." 

"Of  course  I  am.     I  mean  before  that." 

"From  London;  at  least,  so  the  Digbys  told  Harriet; 
and  I  have  heard  Mrs.  Grey  say  the  same." 

"The  Digbys  said  they  thought  so — that  was  all.  She 
had  talked  of  London  to  them,  and  she  talked  of  it  to  us, 
as  though  she  had  lived  there  all  her  life ;  and  yet  she 
had  not — not  for  more  than  a  year  or  eighteen  months 
before  she  went  to  Hastings." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

"Not  from  the  Dunns,  though  I  have  made  close  in- 
quiries ;  but — " 

"  One  moment,  my  dear  Philip  !  Don't  be  affronted  ; 
but  I  thought  you  loved  Averil  Grey." 

"  You  thought  right  then." 


FRET  TV  MISS  BELLE  IV.  141 

"Surely  it  is  no  proof  of  affection  to  go  about  making 
her  name  public,  and  perhaps  giving  people  to  think  that 
she  has  done  something  wrong  or  disgraceful,  by  these  in- 
quiries about  her." 

"  I  am  not  affronted,"  said  Philii),  with  a  sort  of  re- 
signed impatience  in  his  manner,  "  because  you  don't  un- 
derstand what  you  are  talking  of  If  you  did,  you  would 
know  that  the  very  fact  of  my  loving  her  as  I  do,  would 
make  me  more  than  careful  to  guard  her  name  from 
the  very  breath  of  suspicions  such  as  you  describe.  1 
represent  myself  as  looking  for  her  on  account  of  some 
property  which  might  be  hers,  and  which  has  come  to 
our  knowledge,  and  which  I,  being,  please  remember, 
one  of  the  clergymen  of  her  parish,  am  authorized  to  ac- 
quaint her  with.     You  forget  that  my  profession — " 

"Yes,  I'm  afraid  I  forgot  you  in  your  clerical  capacity," 
Bernard  interrui)ted,  smiling;  "go  on  with  what  you 
were  saying  you  had  found  out." 

"Well,  it  was  in  rather  an  odd  way — a  letter  from  the 
landlady  of  a  lodging-house  in — " 

"London!"  Bernard  broke  in;  and  then  bit  his  lips 
for  vexation  at  having  done  so. 

"No,"  said  Philip;  "Southampton.  Odd,  wasn't  it  ? 
I  don't  wonder  you  look  surprised.  It  was  in  answer  to 
one  of  my  advertisements  which  had  found  its  way  on  an 
old  pai)er  to  the  good  lady's  hands;  and  it  informed  me 
that  a  lady,  whose  initials  corresponded  with  those  I  gave, 
and  who  had  resided  not  long  before  at  'The  Myrtles,* 
Woodleigh,  had  lodged  with  her  three  years  previously : 
and  that  she  would  be  happy  to  give  me  any  information 
respecting  her,  for — a  consideration,  of  course.  Those 
sort  of  letters  always  end  that  way." 

"A  consideration  which  regards  _£  s.  d.  more  tlian 
truth,"  Bernard  observed.  "Well,  did  you  answer  this 
letter?" 

"Yes,  in  person.  Ah!  you  stare;  but  sitting  still  in 
that  (lead-alive  village,  when  I  don't  even  know  where 
the  person  I  love  best  is  hitling,  is  maddening  me;  and  I 
thought  I  could  extract  a  larger  amount  of  truth  by  viva 
voce  examination  than  if  I  only  wrote." 


142 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 


"Philip,"  said  his  brother,  kindly,  "this  sort  of  thing 
will  never  do.  I  wondered  what  made  you  look  so  thin 
and  worn  when  you  first  came  in;  I  don't  wonder  at  all 
now.  Racing  down  to  Hastings  and  back,  ditto  to 
Southampton,  ditto  to  London — you  will  wear  yourself 
out  if  you  go  on  in  this  way;  and  how  does  your  parish 
work  get  done  ?" 

"If  I  don't  find  Averil  Grey  I  care  very  little  for 
wearing  myself  out,  or  parish  work  either,"  said  the 
curate,  doggedly.  He  was  leaning  back  in  his  arm- 
chair, a  feverish  glow  in  his  cheeks,  and  his  two  hands 
knotted  fiercely  over  his  knee.  In  front  of  him  was  the 
window,  open,  with  the  sunlight  falling  on  his  thin  face, 
and  a  fresh  spring  breeze  from  the  river  rumpling  the 
light  hair  upon  his  forehead,  and  making  a  rustling 
disturbance  among  the  papers  on  the  table.  Outside 
the  sky  was  dappled  all  over  with  small  cream-white 
clouds;  and  the  birds  were  singing  and  chirruping  in 
the  Temple  Gardens,  where  beds  of  crocuses  and  hya- 
cinths made  bands  of  pure,  pale  color  in  a  setting  of 
dark  brown  earth,  moist  from  recent  rains.  Every  now 
and  then  little  gales  of  perfume  penetrated  the  dim, 
quiet  room,  and  made  a  sweetness  among  musty  books 
and  legal-looking  documents  tied  with  pink  tape.  A 
couple  of  nurses  were  chattering  on  the  walk  far  below, 
and  before  them  romped  a  little  tlock  of  children,  gold- 
haired  and  rosy-cheeked,  whose  merry  voices  rang  bell- 
like over  the  City  sounds,  and  made  a  musical  accompa- 
niment to  the  dialogue  of  the  two  brothers. 

Bernard  laid  his  hand  gently  on   his   brother's  knee. 

"Go  on,"  he  said,  "I  will  talk  to  you  afterwards. 
Finish  you  your  say  first.     You  went  to  Southampton?" 

"And  found  the  woman.  She  seems  a  very  respectable 
body  ;  keeps  a  nice,  comfortable  lodging-house  ;  and  told 
me  at  once  that  her  servant  was  a  Loamshire  girl,  and 
comes  from  Woodleigh — (she's  a  daughter  of  Jane  Par- 
sons, the  one  that  left  the  village  five  or  six  years  ago, 
and  went  to  service.  Don't  you  remember  her  ?)  Well, 
last  Whitsuntide  the  girl  went  home  for  a  holiday,  saw 
the  ladies  at  the   Myrtles,  and  recognized  them  at  once 


PRE  TTY  MISS  BELLE  W.  143 

as  having  lodged  with  her  mistress  a  couple  of  years 
previously.  I  don't  think  she  spoke  to  either  Averil  or 
poor  Miss  Clewer ,  but  when  she  went  back  she  told  the 
landlady  of  the  circumstance.  A  few  weeks  ago  a  paper, 
wrapped  round  something  I  think,  came  into  the  kitchen, 
and  one  of  my  old  advertisements  caught  her  eye:  'A. 
G.  Myrtles  is  earnestly  requested  to  send  her  address,  or 
communicate  wath  the  curate  at  Woodleigh,  on  a  matter 
of  great  imjiortance.'     Up  went  Sarah  to  her  mistress : 

" '  Look  'ere,  m'm,  this  is  parson's  son,  Mr.  Phili;),  a-look- 
ing  for  our  lady  surely.     She  must  ha'  left  t'  cottage.' 

'"Like  she's  come  into  some  money,  an'  he  wants  to 
give  it  her;  or  she's  not  paid  her  rent,  an'  he  wants  to 
get  it,'  said  the  landlady.  '  Perhaps  ther'U  be  a  reward 
offered  in  a  later  paper.' 

"So  they  set  to  work  and  ferreted  out  the  rest  of  the 
back  numbers  after  that  advertisement,  found  that  one 
where  1  begged  any  one  who  knew  the  present  address 
of  'A.  G.,  late  of  Myrtles,  Woodleigh,'  to  send  it  to  me, 
in  order  that  I  might  communicate  with  her  on. business 
to  her  own  advantage,  and  forthwith  wrote  the  letter  to 
me  I  mentioned  to  you.  I  went  down  to  Southampton 
straight,  expecting  to  find  Averil  there,  or  at  all  events 
to  learn  where  she  is;  and  found  that  after  all  they  knew 
no  more  of  that  tlian  I  do — indeed  she  knew  very  little 
at  all  about  her." 

"Ah!"  said  Bernard,  "I  thouglit  not.  I  have  no 
doubt,  though,  she  made  as  much  of  it  as  she  could,  in 
order  to  fleece  you  to  the  greatest  possible  extent. 
Well?" 

"Well,  the  first  thing  she  said  was  that  when  Averil  and 
her  cousin  came  to  her,  they  had  only  just  landed  in  En- 
gland, and  brought  a  French  maid  with  them  :  a  middle- 
aged  woman,  Mrs.  Rendall  said,  'not  one  of  your  flighty 
rVench  damsels,'  but  a  decent,  grave  body,  extremely  re- 
served on  the  subject  of  her  mistresses,  and  sjieaking  very 
bad  English  when  she  spoke  at  all.  Still  the  woman 
doesn't  live  that  can  refrain  from  gossiping  altogether, 
and  mamzelle  (as  Mrs.  Rendall  calleil  her)  did  let  out 
that  she  had  never  been  in  England  before;  and  that  she 


1 44  PRE  TTY  MISS  BELLE  IV. 

had  been  Averil's  maid  for  the  last  ten  years  —  since 
madame  was  quite  a  young  girl,  she  said.  She  was  almost 
broken-hearted  then  because  she  was  going  to  leave  her, 
but  madame's  circumstances  would  no  longer  allow  her  to 
keep  a  lady's-maid,  and  therefore  she  was  going  to  set  up 
a  milliner's  shop  in  London.  '  I  can  at  least  make  the 
bonnets  of  madame,'  she  said. — Now,  Bernard,  why  did 
Averil  never  tell  us  that  she  had  only  recently  come  to 
England,  and  had  lived  in  France  for  years  ?  " 

"We  have  not  heard  that  the  latter  was  the  case  as 
yet,"  said  Bernard,  quietly.  "You  jump  to  conclusions 
on  slender  premises.  Master  Phil." 

"  Why,  have  I  not  told  you  that  the  maid  was  French, 
had  never  been  in  England  before;  and  that,  though 
most  of  the  labels  on  the  trunks  had  been  torn  off  except 
the  last  ones,  'Cork  to  Southampton,'  one  still  remained, 
and  bore  the  name  of  a  French  town  ?  " 

"What  town?" 

"That  is  just  what  Mrs.  Kendall  forgets.  She  says  she 
couldn't. 'perounce'  it  at  the  time;  but  it  was  in  three 
words  and  the  middle  one  was  'sur.'  Mamzelle  had  most 
likely  got  the  box  though,  for  it  was  one  of  hers;  and 
mamzelle  could  most  probably  give  me  Mrs.  Grey's  ad- 
dress now ;  for  she  knew  everything  about  her  mistress, 
adored  her,  and  confided  to  Mrs.  Rendall  that  madame 
was  an  angel,  and  had  suffered  terribly  from  her  husband 
during  his  life.  In  what  way,  or  what  he  was,  mamzelle 
wouldn't  say,  having  evidently  been  bound  to  secresy  on 
that  point ;  but  she  evidently  detested  him,  for  she  groaned 
and  crossed  herself  at  the  mention  of  his  name,  and  said 
that  his  crime,  whatever  it  was,  made  it  well  for  madame 
and  every  one  connected  with  her  to  forget  that  he  had 
ever  existed.  Mrs.  Rendall  said  that  her  mistress,  being 
so  handsome,  would  probably  get  a  better  husband  before 
long ;  but  mamzelle  only  groaned  and  crossed  herself 
again,  and  said  it  would  be  well  if  Heaven  were  so  kind; 
but  that  '  miserable  one'  would  stand  even  in  the  way  of 
a  better  match. — Now,  Bernard,"  said  Philip,  breaking 
off  with  a  glance  of  triumph,  "do  you  see  what  I  am 
coming  to  ?  " 


PRE  TT V  MISS  BELLE  W.  145 

"Not  exactly,  I  confess." 

"Then  the  same  idea  has  not  flashed  across  both  our 
minds." 

"  Mine  is  perfectly  idea-less — not  a  flash  in  it." 

"You  are  joking,  as  usual,"  said  Philip,  angrily.  "And 
yet  you  might  take  some  slight  interest,  even  in  a  matter 
uninteresting  to  yourself,  when  you  know  that  it  is  life 
and  death  to  me." 

"And  do  I  not?"  Bernard  asked.  "You  might  laugh 
all  day,  and  I  should  not  doubt  your  interest  in  Averil 
Grey.  It  is  deeds,  not  words,  Phil.,  which  prove  a  man's 
feelings." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  old  fellow.  It  is  good-natured  of 
you  to  give  up  your  work  for  me;  but,  you  see,  I've  got 
half  crazy  about  this,  and  I  thought  that  if  I  told  you  all 
I  heard,  and  just  how  I  heard  it,  the  same  notion  might 
strike  you  as  has  struck  me  ?  " 

"  And  that  is  ?  " 

"That  Mr.  Grey — if  that  is  the  real  name — has  done 
something,  committed  some  crime,  by  which  he  has  in- 
curred the  severest  penalties  of  the  law;  and  that  Averil, 
having  escaped  from  the  scene  of  his  shame,  is  sacrificing 
her  whole  life  to  the  memory  of  it,  lest  in  any  way  it 
might  be  brought  upon  the  head  of  others,  more  espe- 
cially others  who  had  been  kind  to  her — who  loved  her, 
and  who,  she  knew,  were  proud  to  a  fault  of  their  own 
good  name  and  stainless  antecedents." 

Philip  had  leaned  forward,  his  face  flushed,  his  voice 
quick  and  low.  Bernard  drew  back,  his  lij^s  tightly  com- 
pressed, and  !iis  eyebrows  drawn  together,  like  a  man  who 
has  just  had  a  totally  new  idea  suggested  to  him,  and 
does  not  know  how  to  take  it,  or  whether  to  take  it  at  all. 

"The  severest  penalty  of  the  law  is  death,"  he  said,  at 
last.  "That  means  hanging;  and  hanging  means  mur- 
der!    Philip,  is  it  likely?" 

"It  is  not  unlikely.  Think  how  often  murder  is  com- 
mitted, and  through  how  many  causes — jealousy,  passion, 
what  you  will.  Indeed,  Mrs.  Rendall  said  to  the  maid 
once,  'Why,  you  couldn't  seem  more  in  'orror  of  your 
pore  master  if 'e'd  murdered  anybody ;'  and  the  woman 
10 


146  PRETTY  MISS  BELLE W. 

looked  dreadfully  frightened,  and  begged  Mrs.  Rendall 
not  to  take  up  what. she  had  said,  or  think  of  it  any 
more,  or  madame  would  never  forgive  her.  And  after 
that  she  would  never  say  a  word  more  on  the  subject. 
But,  Bernard,  I  don't  say  he  has  been  hanged,  mind  you, 
though  it  is  not  impossible.  He  may  have  been  only 
sentenced  to  imprisonment,  and  died  before  his  time  was 
out;  or  he  may  have  escaped,  and  died  in  hiding.  There 
are  many  more  disgraceful  crimes  than  murder,  and  yet 
gentlemen  have  committed  them.  But — my  God !  to 
think  of  Averil,  so  pure  and  dignified,  bound  to  the 
memory  of  a  felon  !  " 

"Thinking  of  it,  and  of  her,"  Bernard  observed,  "I 
should  almost  have  thought  such  a  fate  would  have 
killed  her.  Greater  pride  I  never  saw  in  any  one  than  in 
that  gende  widow  lady." 

"Ay,  and  that  pride  has  made  her  fly  from  my  love, 
lest  in  blessing  her  it  might  injure  me!  "  cried  Philip,  his 
eyes  flashing.  "Kill  her!  No,  hers  is  too  great  and 
strong  a  soul  to  droop  and  die  under  the  disgrace  of  a 
worthless  husband.  She  would  put  it  from  her,  and  bury 
it  out  of  her  own  remembrance,  and  everybody  else's  ken. 
Bernard,  I  never  cared  to  find  her  before  as  much  as  I 
do  to-day ;  for  I  never  felt  before  that  she  loved  me  as 
much  as  I  do  now." 

Bernard  had  risen,  and  was  pacing  the  room  as  if  deep 
in  thought.  He  stopped  short  at  this,  and  spoke  ab- 
ruptly : 

"Do  you  feel — you  have  lived  in  the  house  with  her, 
you  ought  to  know — do  you  feel  as  if  she  were  a  truthful 
woman — a  woman  who  would  not  tell  a  lie  on  slight  oc- 
casion ?  " 

"I  am  sure  of  it.  See,  even  in  this.  She  has  been 
silent  altogether  as  to  many  things  she  might  have  told 
us.  Of  some  others  she  has  said  when  questioned,  '  Do 
not  ask  me,  I  cannot  bear  to  talk  of  that;'  but  she  has 
never  told  us  an  untruth  yet." 

"You  asked  her  if  she  loved  you,"  said  Bernard;  "did 
she  say,  '  Yes  ?  '  " 

There  was  no  answer. 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 


H7 


« 


Did  she  even  keep  silence?  or  did  she  say, 'No,' 
most  distinctly,  and  repeat  that  '  No '  both  by  word  of 
mouth  and  letter?  Philip,  I  agree  with  you  that  Mrs. 
Grey  is  a  truthful  woman.  I  do  not  believe  that  she 
would  lie  on  a  point  like  that !  " 

"There  is  no  need  for  such  a  strong  word  as  'lie,'" 
Philip  said,  his  face  flushing  angrily.  "It  is  perfectly  well 
known  that  nine  women  out  of  ten  think  themselves 
privileged  to  use  some  little  prevarication  on  the  subject 
of  love." 

"  I  agree  wath  you ;  but  none  the  less  I  hold  that  in 
this  case  Mrs.  Grey  was  the  tenth.  After  all,  you  see,  I 
have  a  higher  opinion  of  her  than  you,  Philip — in  this 
matter,  at  least." 

The  last  words  came  as  an  after-thought,  spoken  very 
low,  and  with  so  strange  a  look — a  look  half  of  pain, 
half  of  annoyance — that  Philip,  gazing  at  him,  asked  in- 
voluntarily : 

"What  are  you  thinking  of?  " 

"I  would  rather  not  tell  you,"  was  the  unsatisfactory 
answer.  "Wait  a  moment;"  and  he  came  back  to  the 
table.  "  Let  us  put  in  a  few  words  what  you  have  told 
me.  You  believe  from  all  you  hafe  gathered,  that  Mrs. 
Grey — that  being,  probably,  a  feigned  name — loves  you 
as  you  love  her;  but  that  she  has  denied  her  love  and  fled 
from  you  because  she  knows  that  your  family,  who  have 
been  kind  to  her  when  she  was  in  sore  need  of  kindness, 
would  never  consent  to  your  marrying  the  widow  of  a 
man  whose  life  had  been  publicly  disgraced?" 

"Yes,  I  do,"  said  Philip,  decisively.  "And  I  believe" 
(rather  reluctantly)  "that  she  cared  so  much  for  him — 
hang  him  ! — that  she  would  submit  to  any  present  pain 
herself  rather  than  be  the  one  to  expose  the  misdeeds  for 
which  she,  as  his  wife,  has  suffered." 

"And  1  believe,"  thought  Bernard,  turning  from  his 
brother's  earnest  face,  "that  this  man  that  she  has  cared 
for,  cares  for  still  so  dearly,  was  not  her  husband  at  all.  I 
believe  that  she  never  was  his  wife ;  and  that  that  was  the 
mistleed  for  which  she  has  suffered,  and  sufters  still — God 
help  her ! " 


CHAPTER  XV. 

QUESTION  AND  COUNTER-QUESTION. 

BERNARD  CLIVE  did  not  say  the  suspicion  aloud. 
It  pained  him  even  to  think  it,  Hking  and  respecting 
Mrs.  Grey  as  he  did,  and  knowing  full  well  how  hopeless 
to  remedy  such  a  sorrow,  if  he  were  right,  must  needs  be 
in  the  life  of  any  honorable  woman,  more  especially  of  a 
woman  as  proud  as  Lady  Vanborough's  companion.  It 
were  little  matter,  then,  whether  she  loved  or  did  not  love 
his  brother,  in  so  far  as  the  futility  of  that  love  was  con- 
cerned. Bernard  himself,  a  man  ultra-particular  in  all 
things  connected  with  womanly  delicacy  or  decorum,  felt 
that  however  kindly  he  might  feel  towards  Mrs.  Grey,  he 
could  never  wish  to  see  her  his  brother's  wife — never  give 
her  as  a  sister  to  his  own  wife  under  such  circumstances. 
She  might  have  been  deceived  or  deluded ;  she  might 
be  innocent  herself  as  the  babe  unborn ;  and  yet  if  the 
shadow  of  such  a  stain  rested  on  her  name,  it  would  not 
be  well  to  link  that  name  with  the  proud  old  one  of  Clive. 
He  thought  of  her  hasty  yet  determined  flight  from  Wood- 
leigh,  and  the  suspicion  strengthened.  He  thought  of 
the  sudden  vehemence,  so  unlike  her  usually  calm  man- 
ner, with  which  she  had  declared  that  it  would  not  be 
right  for  her  to  take  the  post  of  governess  or  chaperon e 
to  any  one  motherless  child ;  and  it  grew  into  a  certainty. 
Yet  withal  remained  his  original  conviction  that  she  did 
not  love  Philip — that  her  love  was  indeed  where  she 
stated  it  to  be — in  the  grave  of  the  man  she  called  her 
husband;  and  on  that  hint  he  spoke.  As  to  the  suspi- 
148 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 


149 


cion,  which  pained  and  disappointed  him  to  think  of,  he 
would  not  have  uttered  it  in  words  to  save  his  own  life. 

"Look  here,  Philip,"  he  said,  sitting  down,  and  laying 
his  hand  affectionately  on  his  brother's  knee;  "you've 
had  your  say,  and  have  suggested  a  new  idea  as  to  the 
cause  of  Averil  Grey's  flight  from  Woodleigh — an  idea 
which  I  grant  you  is  not  impossible,  which  may  be — 
mind,  I  only  say  7nay  be — the  fact.  Still,  and  granting 
all  this,  listen  to  me  for  one  minute.  Is  it  fair — is  it  kind 
or  manly,  to  insist  on  pursuing  a  lady  w^ho  has  given  up 
a  comfortable  home,  friends  who  valued  her,  and  the 
peace  and  respect  so  dear  to  every  womanly  woman,  sim- 
ply to  escape  from  a  love  she  could  not  return,  and 
would  not  have  thought  it  right  to  accept  if  she  could  ? 
Would  she  have  taken  the  trouble  to  leave  the  rectory  and 
seek  out  a  new  home,  cutting  off  every  clue  that  would 
trace  her,  as  she  did,  unless  she  had  good  reason  for  it, 
and  unless  it  were  her  fervent  desire  to  be  left  unmolested  ? 
Surely,  if  you  care  for  her,  her  wishes  and  her  will  should 
count  for  something  even  against  your  own  !  Philip,  I 
am  disappointed  in  you." 

"Care  for  her!  Care  for  Averil  Grey!"  cried  the  cu- 
rate, unheeding  his  last  words.  "Why,  man,  if  you  knew 
what  passion  was,  you  would  never  use  so  cold  a  word  in 
speaking  of  my  feelings  in  regard  to  her.  I  love  her,  I 
tell  you.     I  love  her  as  never  man  loved  woman  before ! " 

"You  tell  me  so.  Yes,  and  I  do  not  believe  you! 
Now,  Philip,  i)lease  not  to  fly  out.  I  believe  that  you 
think  you  do;  but  you  are  wrong.  What  you  do  love, 
and  love  as  men  have  often  loved  before,  is  yourself, 
and  your  own  gratification.  That  is  centred  at  present 
in  the  possession  of  Averil  Grey ;  and  to  satisfy  that,  you 
put  her  feelings,  her  wishes,  anil  even  her  happiness  en- 
tirely on  one  side." 

"  Excuse  me,"  Philip  said,  iiaughtily,  an  offended  flush 
upon  his  fair  proud  face,  "  I  am  vain  enough  to  hope 
that  her  happiness  would  be  increased,  not  diminished,  as 
my  wife." 

"You  hope  so,  and  she  thinks  the  contrary.  It  may 
be  unflattering;  but  which  is  the  older  and  more  experi- 


15° 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 


enced  of  the  two  ?  Philip,  if  you  do  love  this  woman,  be 
unselfish.  Believe  me,  she  is  old  enough  and  wise 
enough  to  know  what  is  best  for  her  happiness,  and  her- 
self. Granted  even  that  her  husband  was  unworthy  of 
her,  have  not  women  loved  unworthy  men  before  now  ? 
Ay,  and  loved  them  more  warmly  and  faithfully  than  if 
they  had  been  angels  of  light !  " 

"She  told  me  that  she  loved  him,"  said  Philip  Clive, 
sulkily,  "and  I  believe  her;  but — " 

"And  she  also  told  you  that  she  did  not  love  you," 
put  in  Bernard.     "  Why  don't  you  believe  her  there  ?  " 

"Because  she  had  not  had  time,"  Philip  said,  excitedly. 
"  If  I  could  only  find  her,  I  would  soon  teach  her  to — 
make  her  love  me." 

'•'■  Make  her  I  Philip,  if  I  were  not  so  sorry  for  you, 
you  would  make  me  laugh.  Do  you  think  women  can 
be  driven  to  love  like  cattle  to  water,  and  forced  to  drink 
of  it  ?  Do  you  think  a  woman  like  Averil  Grey  is  to  be 
coerced  into  affection  which  her  own  heart  does  not 
prompt  ?  You  can  make  her  despise  you  if  you  like ; 
and  you  will  do  it.  You  can  make  her  hate  you  if  you 
like;  and  you  will  do  that  also;  but  love — " 

"  I  won't  listen  to  you,"  Philip  broke  in,  passionately. 
"  I  wonder  I  have  stood  so  much  and  so  patiently 
already.  Love  !  What  do  you  know  about  it  ?  That  it 
is  a  word  of  four  letters,  and  indirectly  connected  with 
breaches  of  promise  and  divorce  cases,  I  suppose !  I  for- 
got that  it  was  not  in  you  to  know  what  love  or  passion 
meant.  Bah  !  I  don't  blame  you.  There  are  men  who 
can't  go  beyond  a  certain  mild,  well-regulated,  warm-wa- 
tery affection  ;  and  it's  not  your  fault  if  you're  one  of  them. 
I  ought  never  to  have  spoken  of  Averil  to  you  ;  but  I 
thought  you  might  at  least  feel  sufficiently  with  me  to 
help  me.     It  seems  that  you  don't." 

"  I  am  afraid  not,"  said  Bernard. 

He  did  not  speak  angrily ;  but  Philip  sprang  up  in  in- 
dignation. 

"Then  you  refuse !" 

"To  help  you  to  follow  a  lady  who  has  set  me  the 
example  of  refusal  ?  Yes.  I  am  sorry  to  be  obliged  to 
do  so ;  but — " 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV.  151 

"I  believe  that  you  are  in  love  with  her  yourself,"  ex- 
claimed Philip,  white  with  anger,  and  tossing  about  the 
papers  on  the  table  with  a  quivering  hand,  on  which  the 
veins  stood  out  like  blue  cords. 

"You  forget  that  it  is  not  in  me  to  know  what  love  is," 
retorted  his  brother,  as  coolly  as  before;  but  then  he  got 
up  and  laid  his  hand  persuasively  on  Philip's  arm. 

"  Don't  let  us  quarrel,  and  about  a  woman,"  he  said. 
"  If  I  am  not  a  sentimental  fellow,  and  don't  understand 
what  passion  and  that  sort  of  thing  means,  make  allow- 
ances for  me  as  I  do  for  you.  You  think  one  thing,  and 
try  to  persuade  me  into  it;  I  think  another  and  try 
to  persuade  you  into  that.  You  won't  give  in  to  rne, 
because  your  feelings  are  too  strong  for  you  ;  I  won't  give 
in  to  you,  because  my  opinions  are  too  strong  for  me.  I 
don't  quarrel  with  you  ;  don't  quarrel  with  me.  Sit  down 
and  shake  hands." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Philip,  smiling  bitterly,  his  hands 
trembling  still  as  he  hastily  thrust  them  into  his  gloves. 
"If  my  feelings  were  as  cursedly  cold-blooded  as  your 
opinions,  I  might  sit  down.  As  it  is —  But  quarrel ! 
Oh  !  dear  no.  Why  should  we  ?  I  asked  a  brotherly  kind- 
ness of  you,  and  you  refuse  it.  1  don't  mean  to  quarrel 
with  you  ;  but  if  you  expect  me  to  feel  the  same — " 

"  I  don't,"  Bernard  answered,  still  speaking  with  perfect 
good-humor,  but  in  the  easy  bantering  way  which  (un- 
consciously) was  adding  fuel  to  the  flame  of  Philip's 
wjath.  "1  expect  you  to  feel  very  sore  and  awfully 
aggrieved,  and  to  make  yourself  as  disagreeable  as  the 
best  of  men  are  liable  to  do  under  the  circumstances,  for 
a  time.     What !     Are  you  going  ?  " 

"To  leave  you  to  enjoy  your  joke  in  peace!"  Philip 
said,  fiercely.  "  Yes,  I  am !  How  does  this  confounded 
door  open  ?  Oh !"  And  so  he  went  out  of  it  without  a 
word  of  farewell,  and  letting  it  clang  to  with  a  noisy  bang 
as  he  passed  downstairs. 

Bernard  stood  still  for  a  moment  where  he  had  been 
left,  and  then  dropped  in  his  chair,  his  face  grave  and  sad 
enough  now  to  do  away  with  all  suspicion  of  joking. 
"Mild,  warm-watery   affection,"  he   repeated,  slowly. 


15^ 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE W. 


"And  from  one  of  them!  Well,  well,  the  lad  was  in  a 
passion,  and —  But  I  did  think  he  would  have  understood 
me  better." 

The  sunshine  fell  upon  his  bent  head  with  a  kindly 
touch,  and  rested  on  the  papers  tossed  here  and  there  by 
Philip's  hasty  hand.  With  an  old-bachelor-like  hatred  of 
untidiness,  he  got  up,  and  began  rearranging  them  in  their 
former  neat  piles ;  then  turned  to  get  his  hat,  with  the 
muttered  remark,  "  I  suppose  I  ought  to  let  Mrs.  Grey 
know  that  he  is  in  town,"  fastened  the  door  behind  him, 
and  was  just  sallying  forth,  when  he  encountered  at  the 
bottom  of  the  steps  a  very  pretty  girl  in  a  very  bright 
pink  bonnet,  and  with  the  stamp  "  provincial "  written  in 
each  frill  of  her  lilac  gown,  and  each  stitch  of  her  brand- 
new  primrose-colored  gloves. 

"Can  you  tell  me  which  are  Mr.  Clive's  rooms?"  she 
said,  looking  up  to  him  with  a  smile  naturally  sweet  and 
artificially  shy,  and  which  brought  prominently  into  view  a 
double  row  of  teeth  white  and  even  enough  to  turn  the 
head  of — a  dentist ! 

"No.  14,  first  floor  up.  May  I  ask  what  you  want 
with  him?"  inquired  Clive,  the  while  his  eye,  skilled  in 
varieties  of  womankind,  was  mentally  pronouncing  its 
verdict  on  his  visitor's  appearance. 

"Country — boiirgeoise — respectable.  Thinks  herself  a 
beauty,"  thought  the  lawyer.  "Never  saw  her  before. 
Ergo — law  business.     Query — breach  of  promise?" 

Not  much  to  his  surprise — after  the  last  idea  suggested 
— the  young  woman  faltered,  blushed,  and  even  showed 
a  slight  inclination  to  tear  the  tassel  off  her  pink-lined 
parasol. 

"I — I — "  she  stammered.  "Do  you  know  if  I  can  go 
up — if  he's  at  home  ?  or — " 

"I'm  Mr.  Clive,"  said  Bernard,  sharply.  "  If  you  wish 
to  see  me  on  business  now,  I  am  at  your  service  for" — 
looking  at  his  watch — "ten  minutes.  After  that  I  have 
an  appointment." 

The  blushing  and  faltering  recommenced,  and  the 
young  woman's  bonnet-strings  were  nervously  tightened. 

"Oh!  thank  you.  It  wasn't  that,  but  —  mother 
knows — " 


PRE  TTY  MISS  BELLEW.  1 53 

"She  has  the  advantage  of  me,  then,"  said  Clive,  pa- 
tiently, and  in  no  wise  impressed  by  the  combination  of 
sidelong  eyes,  white  teeth,  and  rosy  cheeks.  For  him- 
self, he  would  far  have  preferred  to  have  to  do  with  the 
mother.     "  Pray  go  on.     You  wanted — ?  " 

"Oh!  I  beg  your  pardon.  It — it  wasn't  j^^wy  but — 
haven't  you  a  friend  staying  with  you?" 

"  No,  I  have  not,"  said  Clive,  shortly.  He  was  sur- 
prised now,  but  did  not  care  to  waste  time  in  showing  it. 
"  Good  morning." 

"  Not  Mr.  Eellew  ?"  She  had  stopped  him,  startled  by 
his  abruptness  out  of  her  little  airs  and  graces,  and  laying 
her  hand  on  his  coat-sleeve  with  a  grasj)  unconsciously 
strong  enough  to  surprise  him.  "  Me  mentioned  in  a  let- 
ter that  he  was  coming  to  stay  with  his  friend  Clive  at  the 
Temple,  because  there  was  sickness  in  his  own  house.  If 
you  are  Mr.  Clive,  you'll  know  about  him,  or  perhaps 
there  are  two  of  the  name ! " 

"  'J'here  is  no  other  of  my  name,"  said  Clive,  gravely ; 
"  and  though  I  know  Mr.  Bellew,  he  is  certainly  not  stay- 
ing with  me,  or  in  London  at  all." 

His  surprise  had  passed  away  now  in  a  faint  shrug  of 
the  shoulders  at  the  name  of  his  friend — a  faint  sense  of 
disgust  at  the  thought,  "  So  this  is  the  sort  of  thing  Mas- 
ter Dick's  visit  would  have  entailed !  Lucky  for  me  he 
went  elsewhere;"  and  he  would  have  gone  on  with  a 
nod;  but  the  girl  was  not  to  be  so  easily  left. 

"Do  you  know  where  he  is,  then?"  she  asked;  and 
Clive  answered,  "Somewhere  in  the  country,  I  believe." 
He  had  not  the  slightest  intention  of  giving  his  friend's 
address. 

The  visitor's  eyes  sparkled.  Her  timidity  was  quite 
forgotten  now. 

"  The  country  !  Can  he  have  gone  down  to  us  ?  Good 
gracious!  How  unfortunate  if  we've  come  all  this  way 
up  here,  and  he  be  at  home  after  all ! " 

"  If  you  could  tell  me  where  '  home '  is  ?  "  suggested 
Clive. 

"Market  Gosling,  Loamshire,"  the  young  \(»oman  ]Hit 
in  quickly,  and  with  a  hopefulness  in  her  face  which 
<^.;iive's  shake  of  the  head  dispelled. 


'54 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 


"No,"  he  said,  slowly;  "I  only  saw  him  for  a  few 
minutes  before  he  left,  but  I  am  pretty  sure  he  never 
mentioned  Market  Gosling;  nor  did  I  think  of  asking 
hira  if  he  were  going  there.     Your  own  name  is — ?  " 

"  Fanny  Greypole,"  responded  the  visitor,  promptly. 
"  Miss  Greypole,  that  is.  I  dare  say  he  has  spoken  to 
you — " 

"Often,"  said  Clive,  keeping,  I  am  afraid,  more  to  the 
letter  than  the  spirit  of  the  truth.  "  Well,  Miss  Greypole, 
I  am  sorry  not  to  be  able  to  give  you  any  information 
about  Mr.  Bellew.  I  hope  you  have  not  come  up  to 
London  on  purpose  to  see  him." 

"  Indeed  we  did,"  said  the  girl,  her  black  eyes  very 
doleful.  "  Mother  would  have  come  before,  only  I  per- 
suaded her  not,  for  he  said  it  would  be  just  ruin  for  it  to 
be  known  at  home;  though,  if  he  means  to  act  like  a 
gentleman,  it  must  be  known  sooner  or  later;  and  as  he's 
not  coming  back  to  Oxford  for  a  year,  mother  said  she 
wouldn't  wait  any  longer,  for  there  was  nothing  to  keep 
him  from  going  off  on  the  Continent  or  somewhere  with- 
out letting  us  know,  or  settling  anything  at  all." 

"Settling?"  repeated  Clive,  inquiringly,  and  then 
checked  himself  "I  beg  your  pardon,  but  I  ought  to  tell 
you  that  I  know  very  little  of  Mr.  Bellew's  private  affairs. 
If  he  has  any  business  to  settle  with  you,  I  have  no  doubt 
that  by  writing  to  his  usual  address  you  will  receive  an 
answer." 

Miss  Greypole  nodded  her  head,  angrily. 

"  If  I  don't,  mother  says  she  will  go  to  law,  and  moth- 
er's not  a  woman  to  be  played  with.  She  says  her  daugh- 
ters shan't  be  left  to  go  a-begging  through  any  one's  non- 
sense;  and,  you  know,  a  man  really  ought  to  stand  to 
what  he  says." 

"  Undoubtedly,"  said  Clive.  He  looked  at  her  more 
narrowly  as  he  spoke.  Despite  the  over-fine  clothes  and 
dubious  presentation,  instinct  told  him  that  his  first  idea 
was  the  correct  one,  and  that  the  young  woman  was  as 
"respectable"  as  she  was  plebeian  ;  and  told  him  likewise 
that,  und^  the  vanities  and  aftectations  incidental  to  her 
age  and  position,  there  lurked  a  certain  amount  of  .shrewd- 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW.  155 

ness  and  determination  which  made  her  somewhat  inter- 
esting to  a  student  of  human  nature.  If  Dick,  among 
his  numerous  Httle  games,  had  chosen  to  play  with  this 
young  woman,  she  was  not  one,  Chve  thought,  to  let  him 
go  scot-free  and  rejoicing,  as  other  girls  had  done,  and 
hid  their  broken  hearts  in  shame  and  silence.  A  sort  of 
presentiment  of  evil  to  Mr.  Bellew,  and  through  him  to 
Kate  and  the  rest  of  the  family,  came  over  Clive  as  he 
stood  looking  down  on  the  gorgeous  bonnet  and  primrose 
gloves,  and  made  him,  despite  his  impatience  to  get  to 
Lady  Vanborough's,  delay  to  ask : 

"  If  I  can  get  his  address,  would  you  like  me  to  write 
and  tell  him  of  your  call  ?" 

"I'd  rather  you  sent  me  the  address,  and  write  to  him 
myself.  I  think  he'd  mind  me  better,"  was  the  frank  an- 
swer. 

Clive  smiled. 

"Very  likely;  but  I  am  afraid  I  can't  do  that,"  he  said. 
"To  give  a  person's  address  to  a  stranger  without  author- 
ity to   do   so   would   be  taking  a  liberty  which,  if  taken 
with  me,  I  should  certainly  resent." 
Miss  Greypole  pouted. 

"It  seems  to  me,"  she  said,  looking  up  with  an  odd 
mixture  of  bashful  sauciness  and  the  shrewdness  Clive 
had  detected,  "that  mother  is  right  when  she  says  men 
always  /rj-^;// straightforward  dealings  where  a  woman  is 
concerned." 

"In  individual  cases  I've  no  doubt  your  mother  is  per- 
fectly right,"  C'live  answered,  composedly. 

"And  Dick's  afraid  of  mother.  She  knows  it,  too," 
Miss  Greypole  went  on. 

"I  have  no  doubt  of  that  either,"  said  Clive.  "Your 
mother  is- evidently  a  remarkal)le  woman.  Now,  as  my 
time  is  ])recious" — he  made  another  movement  to  go, 
and  at  the  same  time  Fanny  Greypole  came  nearer. 

"Tell  him  then,"  she  said,  low  and  hurriedly,  "that  we 
are  at  No.  11  Praed  Street;  over  a  china  shop  it  is;  and 
tell  him  mother's  set  on  speaking  to  a  lawyer,  without  he 
writes  or  comes  up  to  settle  something  nice  and  fairly. 
I'm  not  sure  she  won't  see  one  if  he  delays  the  least. 
Tell  him  so,  please." 


1 5  6  PKE  TTY  MISS  BELL  E IV.      ■ 

"Most  certainly  I  will,"  said  Clive.  "Now,  good 
morning,  Miss  Greypole,  and  allow  me,  as  a  lawyer  my- 
self, to  suggest  one  thing  to  you  as  a  sensible  woman. 
Don't  take  any  rash  steps  in  anger.  Law  is  a  ticklish 
thing,  very  easy  to  set  in  motion,  very  difficult  to  stop 
again,  and  given  at  times  to  rebounding  on  those  who 
play  with  it." 

He  lifted  his  hat  as  he  spoke  and  went  away  swiftly. 
Looking  back  after  he  had  gone  some  distance,  he  saw 
the  pink  bonnet  and  primrose  gloves  in  close  juxtaposi- 
tion with  an  older  and  more  soberly  attired  woman. 

"  How  has  he  got  into  that  girl's  hands  ?  "  Clive  thought. 
"And  what  can  she  be? — lodging-house  keeper's  daugh- 
ter, or  lady's-maid  ?  Too  blunt  for  the  latter,  I  fancy. 
Surely  he  can't  have  been  mad  or  fool  enough  to  marry 
her  privately;  or  is  it  my  first  thought  after  all — a  breach 
of  promise  case  ?  It  seems  incredible,  even  for  him,  with 
a  widowed  mother  and  all  those  young  sisters;  but  it 
doesn't  look  like  anything  worse.  Her  manner  is  too 
honest  and  confident  of  being  in  the  right.  Upon  my 
word,  that  young  scamp  deserves  to  be  horse-whipped. 
Fancy  Kate's  family  name  dragged  through  the  law- 
courts  !  and  yet  the  alternative  of  such  a  sister  would  be 
almost  as  bad.  Well,  I  can  but  write  and  warn  him.  It 
seems  to  me  that  everybody's  affairs  are  crowded  on  to 
my  head." 

He  had  jumped  into  a  hansom,  and  was  at  Lady  Van- 
borough's  door  by  now;  so  dismissing  the  man,  he  in- 
quired if  she  were  at  home;  and  being  answered  in  the  af- 
firmative, was  shown  upstairs  to  the  drawing-room,  where 
Lady  Vanborough  was  at  that  moment  engaged  in  a  des- 
perate struggle  between  the  piano,  two  professional  violins, 
and  an  amateur  flute.  The  babel  of  moans,  wails, 
squeaks,  and  crashes  proceeding  from  the  tortured  cham- 
ber might  be  better  imagined  than  described;  and  in  the 
middle  of  the  infernal  din,  calm  and  serene  as  usual,  sat 
Mrs.  Grey,  the  white  border  of  her  widow's-cap  and  line 
of  golden  hair  bent  over  some  work,  on  which  her  mind 
appeared  to  be  concentrated  to  the  exclusion  of  all  else. 

"  Francesca  in  the  Inferno,"  thought  Clive  to  himself, 


PRE  TTY  MISS  BELLE  W.  157 

as  he  entered  the  room ;  and  then  he  sighed,  for  with  the 
suggestion  came  an  association  of  ideas  which  made  it 
appear  even  more  apphcable;  and  he  was  thankful  to 
have  to  go  up  to  Lady  Vanborough  before  meeting  the 
face  of  a  woman  whom,  however  erring,  he  was  there  to 
befriend. 

"  Don't  speak  to  me,"  said  Lady  Vanborough,  spas- 
modically. Her  head  was  almost  level  with  the  keys,  and 
her  arms  going  spread-eaglewise,  like  a  galvanic  windmill. 
"Don't  come  near  me  for  your  life. — One,  two,  three. 
One,  two,  three, — three.  For  Heaven's  sake,  Mr.  Whistle- 
boy,  keep  some  time !  We  are  bars  behind,  and  it's  all 
your  fault. — Can't  we  begin  again,  signor  ? — this  passage, 
I  mean.  Now,  Mr.  Whisdeboy,  one  minute  first.  Hum 
it  before  we  commence.     Please  hum  it." 

"  La — I'-la,  lee,"  began  the  flute-player,  a  lanky  fairhaired 
youth  with  expansively  knobby  brows,  which  extended 
almost  to  the  back  of  his  head,  and  which  became  vio- 
lently pink  from  nerves  and  bashfulness  the  moment  he 
opened  his  lips.  Lady  Vanborough  interrupted  him  with 
a  shriek. 

"  Quite  wrong  !  There,  I  told  you  so.  That's  where 
we  were  out.  Now,  do  listen — La,  1',  1',  lee,  1,  lee,  1' 
lee—" 

"  Mais,  madame,  pas  si  vite,  pas  si  vite ! "  remon- 
strated the  first  violin,  a  greasy  little  man,  with  spectacles 
and  a  blue  chin,  and  with  a  close-cropped  head  like  a 
blacking-brush.  "  C'est  plutot — La — 1'  1'  lee-e,  la,  lee,  la, 
lee.     Voyons  un  peu.     Un,  deux,  trois." 

"  Halle  plays  it  a  great  deal  quicker,"  said  Lady  Van- 
borough, obstinately.  "However,  if  we  crawl,  perhaps 
Mr.  Whistleboy  will  manage  to  keep  up.  Call  it  a  dirge, 
signor — call  it  a  dirge,  that's  all,  and  go  on.  One,  two, 
three." 

"How  are  you,  and  how  do  you  feel?"  said  Clive, 
stepping  up  to  Mrs.  Grey,  and  speaking  low,  so  as  not  to 
distract  the  performers.     "You  look  as  if — " 

"She  were  enacting  the  Christian  martyr!"  broke  in 
Lady  Vanborough,  who  possessed  the  most  marvelous 
capacity  for  making  unlimited  noise  herself,  and  yet  hear- 


158 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 


ing  the  lowest  whisper  from  those  about  her,  and  was 
averse  at  all  times  to  hiding  her  talents  under  a  bushel. 
Now  and  then  this  particular  one  had  been  the  means  of 
putting  certain  of  her  friends  to  considerable  confusion ; 
but  on  the  present  occasion  it  had  no  such  effect,  Mrs. 
Grey  merely  looking  up  with  her  calm,  grave  smile,  as 
though  a  playful  child  had  said  something  saucy ;  while 
Clive  (who  was  slightly  disconcerted)  preserved  a  greater 
appearance  of  sang  froid  than  usual,  and  answered 
coolly : 

"  Exactly ;  for  the  Christian  martyrs  loved  their  mar- 
tyrdom better  than  all  earthly  delights.  Thanks  for  the 
suggestion.     It  hadn't  occurred  to  me  before." 

"Hold  your  tongue,  and  go  away,  right  away,  out  of 
the  room,"  retorted  Lady  Bee.  "You  want  to  make  me 
laugh,  and  disgrace  myself  by  playing  as  many  false 
notes  as  Mr.  Whisdeboy  is  doing.  —  Averil,  take  him 
away  into  my  snuggery.  He'd  a  great  deal  rather  talk 
to  you  than  to  me ;  and  when  I've  got  through  this  I'll 
come  to  you.  Now,  Signor  Bolis,  once  again,  and  give 
us  a  lead  over  the  first  fence.     One,  two,  three ! " 

"Do  you  often  have  these  sort  of  things?"  said  Clive, 
as  Mrs.  Grey  led  the  way  into  the  pretty  little  boudoir 
before  described.  "I  wonder  you  can  stand  it;  but  I 
suppose  music  is  one  of  her  weaknesses." 

"At  present;  but  fortunately  they  don't  last.  Music  is 
the  rage  this  week.  The  last  was  the  stage,  and  the  next 
may  be  the  horses.  Sensation  in  any  form  is  the  real 
weakness ;  but  fortunately  her  mind  is  strong  enough  to 
keep  her  from  rushing  into  anything  worse  than  eccentric- 

ity-"     ...         ,        . 

She  said  it  so  kmdly  and  so  easily  that  Clive,  looking 
into  her  eyes,  thought  within  himself: 

"  Surely  this  woman  could  never  have  brought  any  slur 
on  herself  by  weakness,  at  any  rate." 

Aloud  he  answered : 

"You  take  it  coolly.     It  would  drive  me  mad." 

"You  are  a  man  and  can  carve  out  your  own  niche  in 
life.  I  am  grateful  for  a  home ;  and  so  long  as  Lady  Bee 
is  content  with  making  me  practice  with  her  in  private, 


PRE  TTY  MISS  BELLE  IV.  159 

and  exempts  me  from  all  public  share  in  her  vagaries,  I 
should  be  the  last  person  to  complain  of  them." 

"You  are  right,"  said  Clive,  gravely.  "There  are 
many  worse  things  in  life  than  a  musical  mania  in  a 
friend;-  and  though  that  is  bad  enough,  I  should  be  glad 
if  you  need  never  know  anything  beyond." 

There  was  a  decided  shade  of  what  the  French  call  in- 
tention  in  his  tone;  and  Mrs.  Grey  recognized  it  at  once. 
A  faint  shade  of  alarm  came  over  her  face;  but  she 
looked  full  at  him,  and  asked  directly: 

"I  fancied  that  you  had  come  to  see  me  this  afternoon, 
Bernard.     Have  you  any  bad  news  for  me  ?" 

"  Not  much,"  he  answered,  glad  that  she  had  led  the 
way,  and  yet  feeling  an  embarrassment  in  touching  on  her 
affairs  which  he  had  never  felt  before;  "a  little  worry 
perhaps;  but  I  thought  1  had  better  mention  it  to  you 
so  as  to  put  you  on  your  guard.      1  have  had  a  visitor 

to-dav." 

HeV  color  faded  a  little ;  but  she  oiily  looked  at  hnn. 
Oddly  enough,  it  came  back  with  a  half-look  of  relief 
when  he  added  : 

"  My  brother." 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

COMBE    REGIS. 

r^OOD  news,  young  people!"  said  Kate,  looking  up 

\j"  from  her  letter  with  a  bright  dimpling  smile;  "  Eve 
is  better — quite  out  of  danger,  mamma  says.  Dottie,  you 
may  give  three  cheers  if  you  like;  but  don't  throw  your 
'  tea-cup  over  the  back  of  your  chair,  my  child,  for  we've 
got  to  pay  for  all  we  break ;  and  enthusiasm  becomes  ex- 
pensive under  such  circumstances." 

They  were  all  seated  at  breakfast  in  the  little  parlor  of 
Bloom  Cottage,  Combe  Regis,  far  from  London  sights 
and  London  sounds,  from  fog  and  smoke  and  bustle,  away 
in  the  green,  wave-washed  country,  and  fattening  upon 
fresh  air  and  sea-breezes  as  only  young  Londoners  can 
fatten  in  such  circumstances :  even  Dick  sporting  a 
soiipgon  of  tan  in  his  pale  cheek,  and  Madge  having  sown 
quite  a  crop  of  freckles  on  her  nose  an(i  forehead. 

The  parlor  in  which  they  sat  was  long  and  low,  the 
ceiling  pamted  white,  and  crossed  by  heavy  brown  rafters, 
against  which  Dick  always  looked  as  if  he  were  going  to 
knock  his  head ;  and  the  walls  one-half  wainscot,  termi- 
nating in  a  shelf  broad  enough  to  hold  "no  end  of 
things,"  as  Madge  said,  and  the  other  half  papered  with 
a  vivid  pea-green  representation  in  small  squares  of  the 
sacrifice  of  Abel.  One  breadth  of  this,  having  got  put  in 
upside  down,  gave  you  at  times  an  odd  impression  of 
being  at  sea  in  a  gale  ;  and  this  nautical  element  was  car- 
ried out  by  the  pictures  on  the  wall,  being  chiefly  highly- 
colored  prints  from  the  Illustrated  News  of  vessels  in  full 
i6o 


PRETTY  MISS  BELJ.EiV.  l6i 

sail  over  a  cobalt  sea,  or  stranded   upon  a  burnt  sienna 
beach.      Cases  of  stufted  gulls,  scjuirrels,  etc.,  so  unlike 
life  that  it  was  difficult  to  imagine  that  they  had  ever  fig- 
ured in  the  flesh,  also  ornamented  the  pea-green  walls ; 
and  opposite  to  them  was  a  window,  long  and  low,  like 
the  room,  lattice-paned,  and  looking  out  on  a  patch  of 
garden,  a   flicker  of  almond-blossoms,  and   a  broad   ex- 
panse of  tumbling,  tossing  sea.      The  iireplace  was  very 
original,  -having    a  broad,   black,   wooden   mantel-shelf, 
adorned   with   a  concave   mirror  in   an  antique   carved 
frame,  stacks   of  peacock's   feathers,  and   hecatombs   of 
shells,  and  an  oven  big  enough  to  bake  a  good-sized  loaf, 
which  was  the  special  joy  and  delight  of  Madge  Bellew 
for    cooking    limpets    and    other    marine    abominations. 
Madge  only  sighed  for  George.     Dottie  was  only  a  baby, 
and  Kate  was  grown  up,  and  didn't  enjoy  lim])et-pies  and 
dough-nuts  with  the  zest  of  George  and  Tom.     The  little 
girl  never  looked  at  the  oven  without  an  impatient  excla- 
mation at  Mr.  M'Kenzie  for  having  carried  off" her  playfel- 
low.    In  one  corner  by  the  fireplace  was  a  funny  little  win- 
dow about  two  feet  square,  across  which  a  Portugal  laurel 
had  grown,  and  blocked  out  all  but  a  glimpse  of  green  light ; 
and  in  the  other  stood  a  funnier  little  chiffonier  of  some 
black  wood  inlaid  with,  brass,  and  always  loaded  with 
jugs  and  bowls  of  wild  flowers,  books,  and  workboxes. 
Of  flowers,  indeed,  there   was  no   lack  in   the  room;    a 
large  soup-plate  full  of  primroses,  looking  like  a  heap  of 
pale  sunshine,  set  round  with  dark  crinkly  leaves,  stand- 
ing in  the  middle  of  the  round  breakfast-table,  on  which 
hot  scones,  fried  bacon,  Melton  pie,  toast,  and  marmalade 
made  a  goodly  display,  and   contrasted  amusingly  with 
the  infinitesimally  small  plates,  black-handled  knives,  and 
Britannia  metal  forks. 

"  You  must  really  write  to  my  mother  for  some  silver  to- 
day," Dick  was  saying;  "everything  one  eats  tastes  of 
these  confounded  knives. — Oh,  bother !  one  can't  be  al- 
ways remembering  the  children.  Men  are  not  expected 
to  talk  like  school-girls." 

"What  would  you   do  if  you  heard  Dottie  say  it?" 
said  Kate,  in  French,  that  Dottie  might  not  understand. 
1 1 


1 62  PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 

"  Do !  whip  her,  of  course,"  repHed  Dick,  in  Enghsh ;  and 
Dottie,  who  had  caught  her  own  name  with  infantine 
quickness,  hfted  up  her  innocent  daisy-hke  face  and  round 
blue  eyes  to  Kate,  and  asked,  anxiously : 

"Nobody's  doin'  to  whip  me,  is  dey,  Katie  ?  Me's  not 
done  nuttin  naughty,  has  me?" 

"No,  my  darling;  you're  the  goodest  of  the  good," 
said  Kate,  kissing  her;  and  Dottie,  looking  across  at  Dick 
with  a  sort  of  doubtful  confidence,  repeated : 

"Me  twite  dood,  Dick;  doodest  of  dood — Katie  says 
so." 

Dick's  favorite  dog,  a  beautiful  brown  and  white  setter, 
was  lying  on  the  wide  chintz-covered  settee  which  nearly 
filled  up  one  side  of  the  wall,  keeping  guard  over  his 
master's  hat  and  fishing-rod,  which  had  been  thrown 
down  among  the  cushions;  and  opposite  to  the  fireplace 
stood  a  shabby  little  cottage  piano,  which  had  been  hired, 
with  some  difficulty,  from  the  nearest  town,  and  was  at 
present  encumbered  by  a  great  heap  of  tangled  ivy,  ferns, 
and  convolvuli,  gathered  during  an  early  ramble  in  the 
woods.  The  window  was  open  to  let  in  the  sunshine  and 
fresh  morning  air,  and  the  chintz  curtains  fluttering  in  the 
breeze  and  bulging  inwards,  half  hid,  half  revealed,  the 
panorama  of  blue,  foam-frayed  sea  and  greenish-gray 
headlands.  There  was  a  strange  smell  of  salt  about 
everything,  salt  and  seaweeds,  wild  flowers,  and  tar, 
which  pervaded  the  whole  atmosphere ;  and  down  upon 
the  beach  below,  four  or  five  stalwart  fellows,  in  blue 
guernsey  shirts  and  red  caps,  were  singing,  "Yo,  heave 
ho,"  in  rough  melody  as  they  hauled  a  great  brown  boat, 
flecked  with  foam  and  dripping  with  wet  seaweed,  up 
from  the  sun-flooded  waters  of  the  bay  to  the  sun-flooded 
yellows  sands  above  them. 

Little  Dottie,  with  her  golden  hair  and  rosy  face,  sat 
eating  her  bread-and-milk  with  solemn  and  somewhat 
sloppy  energy,  which  diffused  itself  over  her  cheeks  and 
pinafore  in  the  process;  but  the  elders  had  finished,  and 
Dick,  tossing  the  Times  on  the  piano,  gave  the  signal  for 
a  move  by  going  to  the  window  and  shouting  to  some 
one  on  the  beach  to  know  if  the  "boat  was  ready." 


PRE  TTY  MISS  BELLE  W- ,  163 

"  Ay,  ay,  zur.  Gwine  to  bring  her  down  now,"  was 
shouted  in  answer;  and  Uick  caught  up  his  hat  and 
whistled  to  Floss,  the  setter.  Kate  gave  him  his  rod,  and 
knotted  the  string  of  his  hat  securely  to  his  button-hole. 
"It  won't  do  to  lose  two  in  a  week,"  she  said,  laughing; 
and  Dick  laughed  too,  and  pulled  her  ear. 

"That's  a  good  girl!  I  say,  Kittie,  won't  you  come 
along  too  ?  I'm  going  to  try  Waters's  new  boat,  and  sail 
round  Deadman's  Head,  and  see  if  there's  any  fishing  to 
be  got  in  the  cove.  Run  and  put  on  your  hat.  It's  a 
glorious  day,  and  she's  the  prettiest  craft  going.  If  she 
only  sails  as  well  as  she  looks,  I've  a  good  mind  to  hire 
her  for  all  the  time  we  are  here." 

"  Oh,  Dick !  "  broke,  in  impetuous  Madge,  knocking 
over  her  chair  in  her  haste  to  get  to  him.  "  Let  me  go  too. 
Will  you  ?     I've  got  a  rod  now,  you  know,  and — " 

"No,  no,  Madge.  Now  don't  you  bother.  There  isn't 
room,  and  1  hate  going  fishing  with  more  than  one  girl — 
they  do  chatter  so  consumedly." 

"  But,  Dick,  I  won't  open  my  mouth  once,  I  promise." 

"Take  Madge  instead  of  me,"  said  Kate,  good-hu- 
moredly.  "I  ought  to  write  to  mamma,  and  she  wants 
to  go. — Get  your  hat,  Madge,  and  do,  for  goodness'  sake, 
take  an  umbrella,  child.  You're  getting  as  brown  as  a 
beefsteak." 

"I  like  being  brown;  it's  healthy.  Oh,  Katie!  what  a 
delicious  old  trump  you  are!  "  cried  Madge,  tearing  upstairs 
in  frantic  haste,  while  Kate  turned  to  her  brother  and 
asked,  "  You're  sure  that  boat  is  safe,  Dick  ?  Have  you 
been  out  in  it  before  ?  " 

"  No  ;  but  Waters  has  five  or  six  times.  Safe  !  of  course 
it's  safe.  Is  that  why  you  backed  out.  Miss  Kittie  Cow- 
ard ?  " 

"  Nonsense!  But  I  am  a  coward  for  Madge,  I  acknowl- 
edge.    Don't  let  her  si)ring  about  in  the  boat,  Dick." 

"  All  right.  Don't  bother  ;  "  and  Kate  ran  after  Madge 
to  warn  her  that  if  she  were  not  quiescent  in  the  boat 
Dick  might  not  take  her  out  again,  a  politic  suggestion 
which  she  knew  would  have  more  effect  than  any  en- 
treaties on  the  score  of  the  girl's  own  safety. 


1 64  PRE  TT  V  M/SS  BELLE  IV. 

Left  alone  with  Dottie,  JVfiss  Bellevv  sat  down  to  write 
to  her  mother,  while  la  cadette  washed  her  doll  in  a  soap- 
dish  and  administered  dirt  pills  to  it  with  maternal  solici- 
tude. It  is  curious  to  watch  how  early  the  philoprogen- 
itive instinct  commences  to  act  in  some  girls,  while  others 
have  grown  to  be  wives,  and  even  mothers,  without  even 
possessing  it  at  all.  In  the  middle  of  the  operation, 
however,  the  maid  came  in  to  take  Miss  Dottie  for  a 
walk,  and  the  little  lady,  flinging  her  doll  upon  the  floor, 
rushed  to  Kate's  side  with : 

"  Katie,  tate  me.  Do  pease,  Katie  tarling.  Me  lites 
to  do  out  wis  00  so  mush." 

"Do  you,  little  one?"  said  Kate,  good-naturedly. 
"Afl  right,  so  you  shall. — Get  her  ready,  Martin."  And 
Dottie  departed,  frisking  with  triumph,  while  Kate  fast- 
ened her  letter  and  ran  upstairs  for  her  own  hat. 

A  very  pretty  pair  the  two  sisters  made  as  they  ap- 
peared at  the  cottage  door;  the  one  lithe  and  blooming, 
in  the  full  flush  of  her  girlish  beauty,  not  a  frill  or  a 
flounce  spoiling  the  "upper  ten"  simplicity  of  her  brown 
linen  dress,  not  a  speck  of  color  to  compete  with  her  own 
rich  tints  of  hair  and  skin,  save  the  blue  silk  handker- 
chief knotted  loosely  round  her  full  white  throat;  the 
other,  a  tiny  wax  doll,  all  white  frills  from  the  cambric 
sunbonnet  crowning  her  golden  hair,  to  the  inch  of  skirt 
above  her  pink,  plump  legs,  which  trotted  at  the  rate  of 
three  steps  to  one  at  Kate's  side.  Dottie,  in  her  little 
white  frock  and  pinafore,  was  nothing  nearly  so  fine  as 
the  grocer's  little  girl  over  the  way,  a  small  damsel  of  five 
in  a  green  merino  dress  with  a  silk  "panier"  and  a  sash 
and  shoulder-ribbons  of  vivid  rose-color,  who  stood  look- 
ing curiously  out  at  her  from  her  father's  doorway ;  but 
the  very  absence  of  adornment,  conjoined  with  her  deli- 
cate little  features  and  milk-white  skin,  gave  her  an  air  of 
distinction  which  made  every  one  they  passed  turn  for  a 
second  look  at  the  baby  stranger.  "You  might  ha' 
rigged  her  up,  hood  an'  gownd  an'  a',  wi'  a  yard  or  two 
o'  white  calicer,"  the  old  milk-woman  coming  down  the 
street  told  her  friend,  "an'  yet  the  wee  lassie  looks  for  a* 
the  world  like  a  queen's  bairn." 


PRE TTY  MISS  BELLE  W.  165 

That  side  of  the  cottage  where  the  parlor  was  looked, 
as  I  have  said,  on  to  the  sea  across  a  small  square  garden, 
bright  with  beds  of  snow-drops  and  crocuses,  set  round 
with  curious  shell  borders,  a  honeysuckle  arbor  in  one 
corner  near  the  low  stone  wall  which  overhung  the  beach, 
and  close  under  the  lee  of  the  house,  a  great  almond-tree 
which  overtopped  the  roof,  and  looked  at  present  like  a 
huge  bouquet  of  delicate  pink  blossom.  You  had  only 
to  glance  at  that  waving  tuft  of  color,  to  know  whence 
came  the  name  by  which  the  cottage  was  known  in  Combe 
Regis. 

The  front  of  the  house,  however,  where  the   family 
lived,  looked  into  the  village  street,  which,  paved   with 
rough,   pointed   pebbles,   and    bordered   by   (luaint   red- 
roofed  houses,  climbed  abrupdy  up  a  steep  hill  to  the  old 
church  at  the  top,  its  low  square  tower  standing  out,  grim 
and  gray,  against  the  blue  April  sky.      The  houses  were 
all  built  of  stone,  once  gray  too  ;  but  now  stained  by  time 
and  salt  sea  winds  to  every  imaginable  tint  and  shade  of 
color,  from  russet-brown  to  green  and  orange;  and  with 
their  over-hanging   eaves,  small  lattice-paned   windows, 
and   half-hatch    doors,   at  which    the  women    squatted, 
mending  nets,  vvhile   their  children  played  about  them, 
would  have  made  any  number  of  subjects  for  Hook  or 
Grahame.      They  would  have  found  a  still  better  theme 
in   the  scrap  of  triangular  beach   at  the  bottom   of  the 
street,  where  quite  a  group   of   fishing-boats,   with   their 
brown  sails  half  set,  and  their  wet  cordage  glistening  in 
the  sunbeams,  were  clustered  in  the  little  cove,  while  big 
red-capped  fishermen  busied  themselves  in  piling  tangled 
wreaths  of  brown  network  on   board,  or  in  carrying  up 
baskets  of  slippery,  silvery  fishes,  to  load  upon  a  small 
cart  drawn  by  an  old  white  donkey,  that  stood  plunging 
his  nose  into  a  basket  of  turnip-tops  upon  the  causeway. 
Kate  and  Dottie  did  not  go  near  the  cove,  Jiowever, 
but  turned  their  backs  on  it,  and  climbed  up  the  village 
street,  till  they  turned  oflT  from  it  just  below  the  church 
into  a  path  which  led  across  a  sweep  of  heather  all  rich 
brown,  flecked  with  the  golden  blossoms  of  the  gorse,  and 
overrun  bv  little  white-tniled  rabbits,  that  scudded  about 
among  the  heather,  and  made  Dottie  shriek  with  delight. 


1 0  6  i^f^E  TTY  MISS  BELLE  W. 

"  Oh !  may  me  catch  a  wabbit — may  me  ? "  she 
pleaded,  puUing  excitedly  at  her  sister's  hand;  and  Kate 
giving  royal  permission,  Dottie  scampered  off  first  after 
one  and  then  another  of  the  swift-footed  little  rodents, 
until  she  caught  her  own  foot  upon  a  stone,  and  rolling 
over  and  over  like  a  ball,  had  to  be  picked  up  and  com- 
forted. 

"Never  mind  the  rabbits,  dear;  we  are  going  down 
to  the  wood  for  primroses,  you  know ;  they  won't  run 
away,"  said  Kate;  and  Dottie,  who  had  a  decided  weak- 
ness for  "pwimwoses,"  consenting  with  much  aftability, 
the  two  started  off  hand  in  hand  down  the  heathery  hill- 
side to  a  small  wood  or  copse,  where  wild  flowers  of  all 
sorts  abounded ;  and  which  formed  the  outposts  of 
Datherly  Estate,  the  property  of  one  of  the  chief  mag- 
nates of  the  shire. 

Here  Kate  sat  down  to  rest  upon  a  hummock  of  dry 
dead  bracken,  and  sending  Dottie  to  go  and  pick  prim- 
roses, took  a  couple  of  letters  out  of  her  pocket,  and 
unfolded  them  for  a  fresh  perusal.  The  first  was  the  one 
she  had  received  that  morning  from  her  mother;  and  she 
read  over  again  all  the  discursive  little  home  details  and 
invalid  accounts,  with  a  sigh  of  relief  for  the  improve- 
ment mentioned  in  the  latter.  The  other  was  from 
George,  written  some  days  previously — a  mere  school- 
boy's scrawl,  mentioning  a  horse-show  to  which  he  had 
been  with  Mr.  M'Kenzie,  and  a  new  play  to  which  the 
same  gentleman  had  taken  him.  Beneath  were  a  couple 
of  lines,  very  frankly  and  cordially  expressive  of  his 
pleasure  in  Master  George's  company,  from  the  host 
himself;  and  Kate  turned  to  these  and  read  them  over 
again  with  the  same  smile  her  mother's  letter  had  evoked, 
and  something  like  a  blush  into  the  bargain. 

"What  a  nice  hand  he  writes!"  she  thought,  "so  firm, 
and  yet  so  neat  and  clear.  I  wish  Dick  or  I  could  write 
like  it ;  and  how  kind  he  is,  taking  George  about  every- 
where, and  pretending  that  it  is  all  a  pleasure  to  himself! 
It  is  very  odd,  the  way  in  which  we  have  grown  to  know 
him  better  in  three  weeks  than  hosts  of  men  whom 
we  have  known  for  three  years  and  more." 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE W.  167 

And  Kate  closed  the  letter,  and  leaning  her  head 
against  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  gave  herself'  up  to  dreamy- 
musings  on  the  peculiarities  of  life  as  exemplified  in  the 
recent  acquaintanceship. 

Kate  had  begun  to  think  a  good  deal  about  Dallas 
M'Kenzie  of  late,  more  than  she  was  in  the  habit  of  think- 
ing of  any  man  in  particular,  and  her  thoughts  were  not 
unijleasant  ones.  Slie  had  admired  him,  admired  him 
(juite  unaccountably,  the  first  moment  her  eyes  fell  on 
him  at  Mrs.  de  Ponsonby's  ball.  She  had  met  him  and 
talked  to  him  when  she  and  her  mother  called  on  that 
lady  two  days  later,  and  again  in  the  park  on  the  follow- 
ing day,  with  Petre  de  Ponsonby,  when  both  gentlemen 
found  their  way  to  the  side  of  the  carriage,  and  Mr. 
M'Kenzie  received  a  general  invitation  to  call  from  Lady 
Margaret. 

1  am  afraid  Lady  Margaret  was  hardly  a  prudent 
woman  to  be  the  guardian  of  so  many  daughters;  but 
there  was  something  quiet  yet  fascinating — unmistakable 
good  looks,  yet  joined  with  an  unmistakably  middle-aged 
air — which  made  the  mother  feel  safe  and  at  home  alter 
a  few  minutes'  chat  with  this  traveler.  Besides,  as  every 
one  knows,  M'Kenzie  is  a  very  respectable  name  in  the 
north  of  Scotland.  He  himself  s])oke  of  having  been  in 
the  Royal  Engineers  when  he  first  went  abroad ;  and 
every  word  and  tone  bespoke  a  man  of  education  and  re- 
finement. Kate  did  not  think  her  mother  imprudent  at 
all,  and  felt  quite  a  little  glow  of  indignation  when  Lady 
Bee  remarked  on  the  suddenness  of  this  friendship  with  a 
gentleman  who  had  dropped  so  lately  out  of  nowhere. 
For  it  ivas  a  friendslii]^,  and  no  one  couM  deny  it.  Mr. 
M'Kenzie  was  continually  coming  to  the  liouse — once 
and  sometimes  twice  a  week  ;  and  then  there  were  chance 
meetings  in  the  park,  and  he  had  dined  with  them,  and 
got  them  tickets  for  concerts,  and  private  picture  views. 
Kate  thought  it  was  very  pleasant,  and  said  so  o])enly, 
asserting  as  openly  that  Dallas  M'Kenzie  was  one  of  the 
best-looking  and  pleasantest  men  she  had  ever  met — "  so 
different  from  the  young  men  about  town." 

"And  whv  should  I  not  sav  what  I  think?'"   she  had 


1 68  PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 

said,  when  remonstrated  with  by  a  young  lady  friend  on. 
her  over-frankness.  "There  is  no  harm  in  speaking  the 
truth  as  to  whether  one  Ukes  a  person  or  not." 

"  You  will  be  falling  in  love  with  him  next,"  the  friend 
said,  and  then  Katie  flamed  up. 

"  I  wish  you  would  not  be  always  talking  of  falling  in 
love.  Surely  a  woman  can  like  a  few  people  without — 
and  it  is  so  ridiculous,  as  if  people,  were  not  to  be  frank 
in  their  friendships,  and  proud  to  own  and  be  thankful 
for  them.  Surely  even  if  I  were  to — fall  in  love,"  cried 
Kate,  growing  furiously  scarlet  at  the  bare  sound  of  her 
own  words,  "would  there  be  anything  sinful  or  disgrace- 
ful in  it,  that  I  should  affect  to  deny  the  very  merits  of 
the  person  beforehand  and — but  all  this  is  such  utter  non- 
sense ;  and  indeed,  please  forgive  me,  but  I  think  it  is 
worse  taste  to  suggest  such  things  as  falling  in  love  with 
any  one  one  knows  so  very  slightly  as  Mr.  M'Kenzie, 
than  to  praise  him  because  he  is  pleasant  and  gentlemanly, 
and  not  exactly  the  same  as  other  people." 

After  this  the  conversation  dropped,  and  the  friend 
quarreled  with  Kate,  which  was  not  wholly  unnatural,  as 
for  one  young  lady  to  tell  another  that  what  she  says  is 
not  "good  taste,"  is  impolite,  to  say  the  least,  and  less 
easy  to  forgive  than  many  an  accusation  involving  much 
deeper  wickedness.  But  this  result  remained,  the  usual 
one  in  such  cases — Katie  was  a  little  shy  with  Mr. 
M'Kenzie  the  next  time  she  saw  him,  and  afterwards 
thought  more  of  him  than  she  had  done  before,  and  in  a 
different  manner.  Previously  her  liking  had  been  purely 
centred  in  certain  qualities  of  the  man,  not  the  man  him- 
self, and  it  had  never  crossed  her  mind  to  inquire  whether 
he  were  single,  married,  or  engaged.  Now  a  personal 
element  had  entered  into  her  admiration ;  and  not  con- 
tent with  liking  him,  she  began  to  care  for  his  liking  her, 
and  to  be  sorry  for  his  faults,  as  well  as  appreciative  of 
his  merits.  Also,  she  took  more  interest  in  the  things  he 
o-aid  to  her  of  himself  than  all  he  could  say  on  other  sub- 
jects. 

This  was  a  symptom,  and  a  dangerous  one. 

"He  was  not  exactly  the  same  as  other  people" — I 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW.  169 

am  afraid  those  last  words  of  Kate's  to  her  quondam 
friend  gave  a  clue  to  the  princii)al  charm  in  Dallas 
M'Kenzie.  He  had  been  long  enough  out  of  England 
to  have  lost  (if  he  had  ever  ac(iuired)  that  vapid,  dreary, 
blase  \.oxiQ.  which  our  young  men  consider  it  "the  thing" 
to  assume  in  these  latter  days.  Instead  of  thinking  it 
"bad  form"  to  express  a  hvely  interest  in  anything  be- 
yond a  ballet-girl's  ankles,  and  the  "correct  thing"  to 
have  no  individual  taste  in  this  life  above  a  cigar,  or  (oc- 
casionally) the  points  of  a  horse,  Dallas  M'Kenzie  was 
more  enthusiastic  than  Kate  herself,  had  tastes  as  strong 
as  her  own,  and  an  individuality  even  more  decided. 
Dick  called  him  "gushing,"  because  he  went  into  a  hot 
fire  of  eulogy  over  Dore's  "  Prcetorium,"  and  sneered  at 
his  "  wild  Indian  demonstrations"  when  he  spoke  with 
flashing  eyes  and  withering  scorn  of  the  "Swinburne 
school"  of  literature;  but  though  Kate  shrank  under  the 
sneer  without  resenting  or  loving  Dick  the  less  for  it,  her 
own  heart  sent  up  a  warm  protest  for  a  more  favorable 
judgment ;  and  her  own  good  sense  told  her  that  to  have 
the  power  of  loving  warmly  what  was  noble,  and  hating 
bitterly  what  was  vile,  was  a  thing  not  to  be  despised,  but 
rather  admired  and  envied. 

"  Do  not  laugh  at  me :  I  know  I  am  old-fashioned  and 
backwoodsman  enough  to  feel  things  more  strongly  than 
London  men,"  Mr.  M'Kenzie  had  said  to  her  once;  but 
Kate  felt  no  temptation  to  laugh  at  him,  and  her  eyes 
said  so  with  most  unaffected  candor.  He  apologized  also 
to  her  on  another  occasion  for  his  temper,  having  lost  it 
altogether  in  a  gust  of  perfectly  uncontrolled  wrath  at  the 
opera,  when  some  man,  who  had  evidently  partaken  too 
freely  at  dinner,  had  showed  a  tendency  to  make  imperti- 
nent remarks  on  the  ladies  passing  along  the  lobby. 

"  It  has  been  the  curse  of  my  life,"  he  said  to  Kate, 
later.  "  I  was  a  spoiled  child,  and  allowed  to  fly  into  pas- 
sions for  any  or  every  cause — sometimes  none  a't  all ;  and 
see  the  result !  A  hasty  temper  and  a  hasty  judgment 
have  ruined  my  whole  happiness,  and  that  of  those  about 
me,  and  made  my  life  desolate  before  I  was  thirty." 
"But,  Mr.  M'Kenzie,"  said   Kate,  the  sad,  remorseful 


lyo 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE W. 


tone  waking  a  world  of  pity  in  her  brown  eyes,  "you  are 
very  seldom  angry ;  and  sometimes  it  is  right  to  be 
vexed  with  i)eople.  You  thought  those  men  were  speak- 
ing of  us." 

"Ah!"  he  said,  smiling,  "you  are  young  and  tender- 
hearted, and  would  find  excuses  where  none  are.  I 
seem  very  seldom  angry,  because  too  late — years  too 
late — 1  have  learned  to  strive  for  self-command  and 
cooler  judgment.  If  you  knew  me  as  I  am,  or  rather  as 
I  was—" 

And  then  he  broke  off,  while  Kate  looked  in  wonder 
and  sympathy  at  the  careworn  look  which  spread  over 
his  face,  the  great  lines,  never  wholly  absent,  which  came 
out  deeper  than  ever  on  his  brow.  Certainly,  Mr. 
M'Kenzie  was  "not  like  the  young  men  about  town." 
They  never  talked  to  her  about  their  temper,  or  told  her 
of  faults  which  had  ruined  their  lives. 

"And  I  am  sure  he  is  a  thousand  times  better  than 
they  are,"  cried  Kate,  who  did  not  agree  with  that  prince 
of  cynics,  M.  Rochefoucauld,  when  he  said,  "Nous 
n'avouons  de  petits  defauts  que  pour  persuader  que  nous 
n'avons  pas  de  grands." 

It  might  be  that  Mr.  M'Kenzie  was  in  the  habit  of 
making  confidences  about  himself;  but  neither  did  this 
idea  occur  to  Kate,  who  took  it  as  a  great  compliment 
to  herself  to  be  thus  trusted  with  the  inner  feelings  of 
a  man's  life ;  and  began  to  feel  as  if,  in  some  sort,  Mr. 
M'Kenzie  were  belonging  to  her  in  virtue  of  such  trust; 
and  to  feel  that  warm  interest  and  sympathy  for  him 
which  it  was  her  nature  to  feel  for  all  things  connected 
with  her  home  circle. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  have  gone  through  a  great  deal  of 
trouble,"  she  said  to  him  once,  a  little  fount  of  pity 
shining  in  her  honest  brown  eyes;  "but  it  is  all  over 
now,  isn't  it  ?" 

"Over!"  he  repeated,  a  sort  of  harsh  bitterness  in  his 
tone,  which  would  have  repelled  her  if  she  had  not  seen 
it  was  not  directed  at  herself.  "Is  pain  and  wrong  ever 
over  while  memory  lasts  and  life  remains  ?  Only  a  child 
like  you — "     He  checked  himself  there,  and  added,  with 


PRE  TTY  MISS  BELLE  W.  171 

that  quick  transition  to  gentleness  which  made  one  of 
the  charms  of  his  variable  nature,  "  But  it  is  like  the 
innocent  child  you  are,  sweet  and  loving  enough  to  care 
for  even  a  stranger's  troubles — troubles  you  could  not 
understand  if  you  knew  them." 

Now,  it  does  not  often  happen  in  society  that  young 
ladies  of  the  period  are  told  in  so  many  words,  and  with- 
out compliment  or  jest,  by  their  male  acquaintances,  that 
they  are  sweet  and  loving  and  innocent.  If  men  think 
it,  they  are  sufficiently  prudent  to  keep  such  thoughts  to 
themselves.  And  therefore,  though  Kate  was  always  in- 
undated with  compliments,  the  worth  and  meaning  of 
which  she  knew  too  well  to  pay  any  heed  to  them,  these 
simple  words,  spoken  with  such  candid  gravity  by  a  man 
so  much  older  than  herself,  sounded  hke  the  sweetest 
flattery  in  her  ears,  and  were  dwelt  on  with  a  pleasure 
which  derived  its  source  from  the  unspoken  thought,  "  He 
must  think  it,  or  he  would  not  say  it,  he  is  so  frank ; 
and  if  he  thinks  so  well  of  me,  he  must  like  me." 

He  did.  Kate  was  right.  He  liked  her  very  much, 
but  not  in  the  way  in  which  she  was  beginning  to  like 
him.  He  had  once  loved  a  woman  passionately — had 
been,  as  he  considered,  bitterlv  wronged — and  had 
shunned  and  avoided  all  womankind  for  years  after  for 
her  sake.  But  the  man's  nature  was  not  misanthropical 
or  morose.  His  temper  might  be  passionate,  and  his 
judgment  hasty;  but  the  heart  behind  was  warm,  and 
the  inclination  to  love  and  trust  indestructibly  vivid. 

It  was  Kate's  frankly-shown  liking  for  him  which  won 
him  to  like  her.  He  admired  her  fresh  young  beauty,  as 
was  only  natural.  He  felt  towards  her,  in  his  own  words, 
as  towards  an  innocent  loving  child  ;  and  found  rest  and 
pleasure  in  her  girlish  friendship.  No  other  thought  had 
ever  occurred  to  him,  else  perhaps  he  had  made  an  eftbrt 
to  deny  himself  the  free  enjoyment  of  her  society  and 
sympathy,  and,  for  her  own  sake,  left  her  to  forget  him 
and  his  troubled  life  among  younger  and  easier-minded 
men.  But  Kale  knew  nothing  of  this;  and  it  was  with  a 
violent  and  joyous  start  that  she  was  suddenly  roused 
from  her  musings  by  two  hands  clapped  on  her  shoulders; 


172 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 


and,  turning  quickly  round,  found  George  at  her  back, 
and  Dallas  M'Kenzie  standing  at  a  little  distance,  smiling 
at  her  bewildered  expression. 

"Why,  Katie,  you  nearly  jumped  out  of  your  skin," 
cried  George,  going  off  into  a  peal  of  delighted  laughter 
at  the  success  of  his  grand  surprise. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

LADY  VANBOROUGH  STARTS  A  NEW  IDEA. 

MRS.  GREY's  face  had  certainly  changed  from  white 
alarm  to  an  expression  of  relief  when  Clive  gave  the 
answer  recorded;  and  he  noticed  it.  It  was  with  a  sort 
of  smile,  though  a  very  weary  and  worried  one,  that  she 
said : 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  that  your  brother  is  still  fool- 
ish enough  to — " 

"To  go  on  loving  you,  and  hunting  for  you  everywhere 
in  the  hope  of  inducing  you  to  reconsider  your  decision. 
Yes:  I  am  sorry  for  his  folly,  but  that  is  just  what  he  is 
doing." 

Mrs.  Grey  shrugged  her  shoulders.  It  was  plain  that 
she  did  not  love  Philip,  else  she  had  felt  more  sympathy 
for  him. 

"I  am  sorry  for  it,"  she  said,  "but  I  cannot  help  it.  It 
is  worse  than  folly,  Bernard ;  it  is  something  like  madness. 
Nobody  ever  heard  of  a  woman  being  persecuted  in  this 
way — and  for  simply  saying  'No' !" 

"  Perhaps  if  you  were  to  see  him,  and  hear  what  he  has 
to  urge — " 

"To  what  end?  Did  I  not  hear  it  all,  not  once  but  a 
dozen  times,  before  I  left  Woodleigh  ?  I  verily  believe 
that  had  I  stayed  there,  he  would  have  shot  himself  or 
me,  one  morning.  He  did  threaten  it.  Am  I  the  only 
woman  in  the  world  ?  " 

"You  are  the  only  woman  for  him,  it  seems." 

"  Not  for  him,  you  mean  !     At  least,  that  is  what   I 

^73 


174 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE W. 


have  striven  to  impress  on  him.  Why  will  he  not  beUeve 
me?" 

"  Because  you  gave  him  no  reason." 

"  But  I  did.  I  told  him  I  do  not  love  him.  Is  not 
that  reason  enough  ?  " 

"  No,  for  he  urges  that  if  you  would  only  give  him  the 
opportunity,  he  would  win  your  love." 

"  He  is  self-confident,"  she  said,  with  a  smile. 

"He  is  a  man  in  love,  and  in  earnest,"  Clive  answered, 
gravely. 

"A  man!  Say  rather  a  boy  compared  to  me,  and  a 
boy  too  obstinate  to  take  a  plain  answer.  Bernard,  can- 
not you  persuade  him  of  the  utter  hopelessness  of  his 
pursuit  ?  Tell  him  that  every  day  diminishes  the  liking 
and  pity  I  have  hitherto  felt  for  him.     Tell  him — " 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Grey,  I  can  tell  him  nothing  from  you 
without  acknowledging  that  I  know  where  you  are." 

"Well?" 

"Well,  simply  this.  Philip  is  my  only  brother,  and  £ 
am  weak  enough  to  care  about  his  trust  and  friendship. 
Were  he  to  find  out  that  I  had  been  a  party  to  keeping 
this  secret  from  him,  he  would  never  speak  to  me  or  touch 
my  hand  again.     That  is  all." 

Mrs.  Grey's  eyes  filled.  She  put  out  her  hand  and 
touched  Bernard's  kindly. 

"All!"  she  repeated.  "You  must  think  me  a  selfish 
woman  indeed,  if  you  could  credit  me  for  being  willing 
to  purchase  my  present  peace  at  the  expense  of  a  tithe  of 
such  an  'all.'  Do  you  think  that  I  do  you  as  little  jus- 
tice ?  that  I  do  not  see  what  an  utterly  unselfish  life 
yours  has  been,  and  what  a  good,  warm  heart  you  try  to 
hide  under  all  your  short  answers  and  cold  speeches  ?  I 
am  a  very  unfortunate  woman,  Bernard,  but  I  should  be 
more  unfortunate  still  if  I  thought  I  was  ever  the  means 
of  inducing  even  the  most  transient  coolness  between  two 
brothers  like  you  and  Philip." 

"Thank  you,"  Bernard  said,  quietly.  He  did  not  tell 
her  that  that  was  just  what  she  had  done.  He  said,  laugh- 
ingly, "It  is  a  pity  that  you  could  not  tell  him  that  you 
loved  some  one  else,  and  so  settle  it." 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEVV. 


75 


"Would  that  have  the  desired  effect?"  she  asked,  so 
quickly  as  to  startle  him. 

"I  think  60.  In  my  case  it  would.  I  might  h^  unfor- 
tunate enough  to  love  a  woman  whose  love  was  given  to 
another,  but  I  could  never  wish  to  make  her  my  wife." 

"Then  I  will  write  at  once  and  tell  him  that,"  Mrs. 
Grey  answered,  with  a  quiet  decision  of  tone  and  manner 
which  showed  she  was  in  earnest — "that  I  love  some  one 
else  better,  a  million  times  better  than  I  could  ever  have 
loved  him,  had  there  been  no  such  obstacle  in  the  way." 

"Add,  if  you  can,"  said  Clive,  gently,  "that  the  person 
so  honored  by  your  interest  is  no  shadow  of  the  past,  no 
memory  of  the  unknowing  dead,  no  grave  of  a  dead 
husband,  but  the  tangible  reality  of  a  living  and  happy 
rival." 

He  spoke  slowly  and  gravely,  seeking  at  the  risk  of 
probing  her  wounds  to  answer  a  question  important  to  his 
own  mind ;  and  as  he  did  so,  the  color  came  into  her  face  in 
a  deep  rich  glow,  making  her  look  indescribably  lovely; 
but  he  had  put  up  her  spirits,  and  she  answered,  firmly : 

"  Neither  a  shadow  of  the  grave  nor  a  memory  of  the 
dead,  but  a  man  as  strong  in  life  as  himself,  and  happy — 
Well,  I  suppose — I  hope  so."  She  said  the  last  words 
with  her  eyes  turned  from  him,  and  in  a  tone  of  mingled 
pain  and  bitterness  which  Clive  fancied  he  understood. 

"So  the  man  is  not  dead  after  all,  but  alive,"  he  thought. 
"Is  she  as  pure  as  she  looks,  I  wonder?  Could  it  have 
been  a  sham  marriage ;  and  had  she  the  courage  to 
leave  him  as  soon  as  she  found  it  out  ?  or —  No,  it  is 
not  likely  that  any  one  would  have  tired  of  her.  I  wish 
1  knew,  for  the  sake  of  my  own  opinion  of  her.  She  has 
acted  her  widowhood  so  beautifully  that  I  have  faith  in 
her  ability  to  act  anything — even  virtue." 

"Are  you  satisfied  now?"  said  Mrs.  Grey,  turning  to 
him  with  even  more  dignity  than  usual  in  her  beautiful 
face — a  dignity  which  almost  rebuked  the  idea  of  ever  so 
faint  a  reproach  in  connection  with  her.  "  You  don't 
wish  me  to  marry  your  brother,  Bernard  ?" 

"  I  don't  wish  you  to  do  anything  you  would  think 
wrong  or  unwise,"  he  said,  evasively;  and  then  he  added 


I  y  6  PiiE  Try  MISS  BELLE  IV. 

with  a  smile,  "  Forgive  me  for  pressing  you  to  this  con- 
fession. It  is  hke  yourself,  kind  and  generous,  to  make 
it ;  but  I  do  not  think  you  will  be  sorry  later,  for  just  now 
poor  Philip  is  laboring  under  a  very  different  delusion." 

"And  that?" 

"  I  am  afraid  I  ought  not  to  tell  you,"  said  Clive, 
laughing;  but  his  eyes  never  left  her  face.  "  He  picked 
it  up  down  at  Southampton  a  few  days  ago.  You  re- 
member the  lodgings  you  were  at  with  Miss  Clewer  and 
your  French  maid  when  you  first  came  to  England  ?  " 

He  paused,  not  so  much  for  an  answer,  as  at  the  deadly 
pallor  which  overspread  her  face — a  pallor  so  intense  that 
it  reminded  him  of  nothing  else  in  life — that  was  gray 
rather  than  white,  and  that  turned  her  very  finger-nails 
livid  in  the  cheery  sunshine.  Had  a  ghost  risen  before 
her,  sheeted  and  clammy  from  the  grave,  she  might  have 
looked  so,  Clive  thought;  and  up  before  his  mind  rose  a 
picture  he  had  once  seen  of  the  mother  of  mankind,  Eve, 
lithe-limbed,  grand,  and  golden-haired,  in  the  peaceful 
days  of  her  exile,  bending  to  lay  the  infant  Abel  on  his 
leafy  couch,  and  starting  back,  as  from  the  vision  of  a 
past  horror,  at  the  sight  of  a  serpent  coiled  upon  the  in- 
fant's pillow. 

"  Good  God  !  Mrs.  Grey — are  you  ill  ?  "  he  asked,  start- 
led at  the  eftect  his  own  words  had  produced.  "For 
Heaven's  sake,  don't  look  like — " 

What,  was  left  unsaid :  for  in  the  same  moment  the 
door  opened,  and  Lady  Vanborough  entered,  laughing 
heartily,  and  followed  by  her  fluting  martyr. 

"Allow  you  to  give  it  up!  No,  certainly  not,  Mr. 
Whistleboy.  I  never  allow  anybody  to  give  up  what 
they  undertake  in  connection  with  me.  Hard  on  you ! 
Of  course  I  am  hard  on  you.  Some  one  must  be,  if  you 
keep  such  atrocious  time.  Do  you  think  I  would  let  you 
practice  with  me  if  I  couldn't  be  hard  on  you  ?  And 
you  are  to  come  again  on  Thursday,  and  on  Friday  too ; 
and  we'll  have  a  try  at  it  before  Bolis  comes.  —  Well, 
Mr.  Clive — has  Mrs.  Grey  been  amusing  you  properly  ? 
or  have  you  been  pining  wearily  for  my  presence  ?  Pleast 
say  the  latter.     I  like  people  to  be  polite  to  me." 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 


177 


"How  could  I  say  anything  else?"  said  Clive. 

He  spoke  laughingly,  and  standing  in  front  of  Mrs, 
Grey,  so  as  to  shield  her  from  observation.  But  Lady 
Bee's  eyes  were  as  sharp  as  her  ears  and  tongue;  and 
they  had  already  caught  sight  of  the  dead-wdiite  face 
bent  so  nervously  over  its  OAvner's  work. 

"  Mrs.  Grey,  my  dear,"  she  said,  abruptly,  "  you've  got 
a  headache.  Mr.  Clive  has  been  boring  you.  He  always 
does  bore  every  one  but  me;  so  just  leave  him  to  me, 
and  I'll  give  him  a  scolding.  Go  and  lie  down,  and  I'll 
send  you  up  some  tea.  There's  nothing  like  a  cup  of 
strong  tea  with  a  teaspoonful  of  brandy  in  it  for  a  head- 
ache." 

Mrs.  Grey  rose  at  once,  and  with  almost  grateful  alac- 
rity; but  Clive  put  out  his  hand,  a  look  of  apology  in  his 
eyes. 

"Good-bye,  Mrs.  Grey,"  he  said.  "I'm  afraid  I  have 
bored  you ;  but  I  won't  do  so  again  ;  and  please  send  me 
that  letter  for  the  clergyman  we  were  speaking  of,  and  I 
will  forward  it  to  him.  He  will  be  grateful  for  the  char- 
ity." 

He  had  her  hand  in  his,  but  it  felt  very  cold,  and  she 
merely  bowed  her  head  in  answer  before  taking  it  and 
herself  away. 

Lady  Vanborough  rang  for  tea  ;  and,  during  the  clatter 
made  by  its  appearance,  said  to  Clive  in  an  abrupt  aside : 

"  You  two  are  not  making  fools  of  yourselves,  I  hope." 
■  "Making — I  don't  understand  you,  Lady  Vanbor- 
ough," said  Clive,  haughtily,  and  staring. 

"Have  you  quarreled  ?"  she  asked,  paying  no  manner 
of  heed  to  his  tone. 

"  I  hope  not." 

"You  would  be  a  fool  if  you  did;  though,  mind  you, 
I've  no  patience  with  her;  for  I  think  she's  behaving  like 
the  mother  of  all  geese." 

Clive  raised  his  shoulders  somewhat  impatiently.  It 
was  not  a  polite  gesture ;  but  then  Lady  Vanborough 
was  not  given  to  politeness  herself 

"Are  we  playing  at  conundrums  ?"  he  asked.  "If  so, 
12 


178  PRETTY  MISS  BELLE W. 

please  let  me  run  away.     I  never  could  guess  the  sim- 
plest riddle  to  save  my  life." 

"  That  is  probably  why  you  think  other  people  can't, 
either,"  retorted  Lady  Vanborough ;  "but  you  must  be 
dense  indeed  if  you  can't  see  that  she  cares  for  you." 

And  then  she  turned  round  to  Mr.  Whistleboy,  and 
began  chaffing  him,  until  another  visitor  dropped  in;  and 
Clive,  knowing  it  was  useless  to  wait  for  an  explanation, 
took  his  leave. 

"  By  George !  "  he  muttered,  when  he  found  himself  in 
the  street  again.  "  My  brain  seems  to  be  turning.  Averil 
Grey  care  for —  Bah !  the  woman's  mad — always  was. 
Doesn't  every  one  know  her  vagaries  ?  That  would  be 
an  awkard  solution,  indeed,  if  I  were  vain  enough  to  give 
it  credence;  but  no,  that  pale  face  of  hers  was  proof  too 
positive  of  the  truth  of  my  own  suspicion.  Good  Heav- 
ens !  though — " 

And  Clive  almost  came  to  a  full  stop  as  there  flashed 
across  his  mind  the  thought  that  Lady  Bee's  theory  and 
his  own  were  by  no  means  inconsistent — that  it  was  pos 
sible  Mrs.  Grey  might  be  indeed  the  unfortunate  woman 
he  deemed  her ;  and  yet  be  doubly  unfortunate  in  having 
given  her  affections  to  himself  It  might  be  so:  but 
Clive  made  a  wry  face  over  it.  Strangely  enough  (for 
young  men  are  not  given  to  resenting  the  idea  of  a  con- 
quest) he  felt  a  distaste  for  the  mere  suggestion  of  this, 
which  almost  amounted  to  repugnance.  He  had  plenty 
of  faults,  but  vanity  was  not  one  of  them ;  and  the  sus- 
picion that  Mrs.  Grey  cared  for  him  diminished  her  worth 
in  his  eyes,  in  place  of  increasing  his  own.  He  had 
chosen  to  think  of  her  as  a  queen  among  women — a 
queen  widowed  and  exiled  from  her  rightful  sphere,  but 
none  the  less  queenly  or  deserving  of  homage  and  rever- 
ence. He  /^a^ reverenced  her,  loved  her  almost,  with  that 
sort  of  loyal  brotherly  love  which  some  men  can  feel  for 
women  of  whom  they  never  think  as  in  any  closer  rela- 
tionship to  themselves  than  that  of  friends;  and  when  Phil- 
ip's researches  opened  a  new  field  for  imagination  regard- 
ing her,  and  suggested  a  darker  and  sadder  reason  for  her 
exile  than  limited  means,  or  consecration  to  a  husband's 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV.  l^g 

memory,  the  loyalty  of  his  friendship  had  found  strength  to 
hold  closer  to  its  shrine  through  all  the  pain  of  its  deface- 
ment, and  to  construct  a  theory  of  trust  abused,  of  inno- 
cence wronged  and  of  a  soul  which  had  left  its  all  on  ear^h 
for  conscience'  sake,  and  yet  had  enshrined  that  "all" 
within  its  heart,  and  suffered  no  other  tenant  to  enter  there 
in.  Such  a  theory,  painful  as  it  was  to  contemplate  for  her 
sake,  yet  left  Averil  Grey  high  and  stainless  on  the  pedestal 
where  he  had  placed  her — a  pedestal  where  indeed  it 
might  be  right  she  should  stand  alone  and  unsupported 
through  her  earthly  days,  but  whence  none  had  right  or 
title  to  cast  her  down.  But  to  think  of  her  as  a  woman 
light  and  unstable  as  others,  weak  enough  to  forget  the 
past,  and  throw  away  her  love  anew  on  a  man  who  had 
never  even  sought  it — who  did  not  return  it —  on  him  of 
all  men — that  was  quite  a  different  order  of  things;  and 
with  all  his  strength  Clive  strove  to  drive  it  out  of  his 
mind,  hating  Lady  Bee  the  while  for  having  planted  it 
there. 

"It  is  an  absurd  figment  of  her  own  over-heated  brain. 
Better  not  to  pay  it  the  compliment  of  thinking  of  it  at 
all,"  he  said  to  himself 

In  his  heart  he  did  think  of  it,  and  carried  his  thought 
into  action.  He  kept  away  from  Lady  Vanborough's  for 
the  next  week. 

Philip  wrote  to  him  in  a  few  days.  He  kept  up  his 
resentment  as  long  as  he  could ;  but  finding  Harriet  even 
more  unsympathizing  than  Bernard  (his  sister  had  taken 
for  her  text — "if  there  were  not  something  wrong  about 
Mrs.  Cirey,  she  would  never  have  gone  off  in  that  mys- 
terious way,  after  pretending  to  care  for  Minnie  too :  and 
making  the  servants  talk,  and  all!")  he  was  driven  to 
magnanimous  forgiveness  of  the  brother  who  had  always 
been  his  best  friend,  and  made  him  the  confidant  of  his 
passion  as  heretofore. 

"  I  have  found  the  lady's  maid,"  he  wrote,  "after  a  great 
deal  of  trouble  ;  for  she  had  moved  from  her  first  address, 
and  keeps  a  very  poky  little  milliner's  shop  in  Lamb's 
Conduit  Street ;  and  I  have  found  out  one  or  two  more 
things,  though  with  e\en  more  difficulty,  and  at  the  ex- 


1 80  i'J^E  TT  Y  MISS  BELLE  W. 

pense  of  a  good  deal  more  bamfoozling  than  I  like.  The 
woman  is  as  staunch  as  steel  to  her  mistress,  and  will  not 
let  out  one  word  as  to  her  whereabouts  and  antecedents. 
When  I  tell  you,  however,  that  I  am  to  have  the  very 
trunk  I  told  you  of  sent  down  to  me  at  Woodleigh  to- 
morrow, you  may  guess  I  have  done  something,  though 
it  is  not  with  the  mistress  of  the  establishment." 

"Gone  down  from  lodging-house  keepers  to  servant- 
girls,"  said  Bernard,  with  a  shrug  of  his  broad  shoulders. 
"And  this  is  love!  It  is  not  an  elevating  element,  of  a 
certainty." 

Apparently  some  mysterious  intuition — what  the  fair 
and  fast  lady  spiritualists  of  the  day  elect  to  call  "superior 
psychic  force" — had  led  Philip  to  foresee  what  would  be 
his  brother's  sentiments ;  for  he  broke  off  here,  and  added 
abruptly : 

"I  had  meant  to  tell  you  all  about  it,  but  I  think  I  will 
wait ;  for  until  you  see  the  result  you  will  be  pulhng  long 
faces,  and  cavihng  at  the  necessary  steps  leading  to  the 
end.  I  give  you  credit  for  sufficient  family  affection  to 
wish  me  joy  when  that  end  is  won,  and  Averil  my  wife." 

He  said  not  a  word  of  having  received  any  letter  from 
Mrs.  Grey ;  and  looking  back  at  the  hopeful,  expectant 
ring  of  Philip's  own,  Bernard  could  not  think  that  Mrs. 
Grey  had  been  true  to  her  intention. 

"And  yet  if  she  could  look  me  in  the  face  and  say  it, 
surely  she  could  say  it  to  him,"  he  thought,  with  some  ir- 
ritation, and  an  emphasis  on  the  "me,"  which  might  un- 
doubtedly have  been  traced  to  that  communication  from 
Lady  Vanborough,  of  which  he  had  determined  not  to 
thinic.  "  Perhaps  the  hint  I  gave  her,  and  which  alarmed 
her  so  much,  made  her  change  her  mind  about  writing  to 
him.  Perhaps  she  thought  Lady  Vanborough's  entrance 
prevented  my  saying  more,  and  has  been  expecting  me  to 
renew  the  subject.  Poor  thing!  if  that  is  the  case,  I 
really  ought  to  call,  and  put  her  out  of  her  suspense ;  for 
I  really  did  not  intend  to  say  any  more,  and  was  rather 
thankful  for  the  interruption.  I  must  put  this  nonsense 
out  of  my  head,  and  call." 

But  unfortunately  it  is  sometimes  harder  to  drive  non- 


PRE  TTY  MJSS  BELLE  W.  1 8 1 

sense  out  of  a  head  than  to  drive  sense  into  it;  and  Mr, 
Clive  delayed  paying  his  call  till,  as  1  have  said,  more 
than  a  week  had  passed  away;  and  then,  one  afternoon 
when  he  had  notliing  better  to  do,  turned  up  at  Lady 
Vanborough's  door,  and  hiquired  if  that  individual  was 
within. 

"JNo;  my  lady  was  out  of  town,"  the  flunkey  said. 

"Was  Mrs.  Grey  gone  with  her?" 

"Yes;  Mrs.  Grey  was  gone  too." 

He  did  not  say,  "with  her;"  but  to  hear  that  she  was 
gone  was  enough  for  Clive,  who  departed  with  a  decided 
sense  of  relief.  Strong,  hard  man  as  he  was,  he  felt  as 
nervous  and  bashful  as  a  girl  at  meeting  the  woman  who 
had  flushed  under  his  gaze  in  such  beautiful,  womanly 
embarrassment,  as  she  owned  that  his  brother's  rival  in 
her  att'ections  was  no  memory  of  a  dead  husband,  but  a 
living  and  happy  man.  He  was  glad  not  to  see  her 
again ;  and  yet  when  he  went  home  he  felt  irritated  with 
himself  for  not  having  called  sooner.  \i  he  could  have 
seen  Lady  Vanborough,  at  least,  and  forced  her  to  ex- 
plain and  give  a  reason  for  what  she  had  said !  If  he 
could  but  have  convinced  her  of  the  absurdity  of  her 
own  eccentric  fancy!  But  he  had  delayed  too  long; 
and  now  Lady  Vanborough  and  Mrs.  Grey  were  both 
gone,  and  only  the  eccentric  idea  remained  behind,  to  ir- 
ritate him  by  its  absurdity  till  their  return. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

WELCOME   AND    UNWELCOME    VISITORS. 

^'  r\ID  we  startle  you  very  much,  Miss  Bellew?"  said 
|_y  Dallas,  as  he  took  her  hand,  while  George,  hav- 
ing espied  Dottie  deep  in  a  primrosy  nook,  crept  off  on 
hands  and  knees,  to  treat  her  to  a  similar  awakening.  "I 
don't  know  how  strong  your  nerves  may  be;  but  your 
brother  was  so  imperious  on  the  subject,  that  to  keep  the 
peace  I  was  obliged  to  let  him  have  his  own  way." 

"  I  think  that  Dick  and  Eve  are  the  only  two  of  us 
who  indulge  in  such  a  luxury  as  nerves,"  said  Kate,  laugh- 
ing, and  certainly  showing  no  displeasure  at  the  rencontre  ; 
"you  did  make  me  juaip,  however;  I  could  hardly  be- 
lieve it  was  George ;  and  what  can  have  brought  you 
down  here  ?  " 

"  Brought  me  ?  Well,  my  young  guest.  You  should 
have  kept  an  eye  on  your  little  sister's  correspondence. 
Miss  Bellew,  if  you  did  not  wish  to  see  me ;  for  George 
got  such  a  heart-rending  epistle  from  Miss  Madge,  the  day 
before  yesterday,  describing  fish  which  might  have  jumped 
into  his  hand  if  he  were  only  there  to  catch  them,  and 
'heavenly'  ovens  which  baked  all  the  delicacies  he  could 
possibly  have  concocted,  had  he  been  on  the  spot  to  con- 
coct them,  that  the  young  scamp  became  utterly  misera- 
ble and  broken-hearted  at  the  thought  of  all  you  were  en- 
joying without  him,  and  moped  so  piteously,  that  I  had 
no  resource  but  to  bring  him  down  for  a  day  or  two,  to 
try  whether  the  reality  were  as  delightful  as  the  descrip- 


tion." 


182 


PRE  TT  Y  MISS  BELLE  IV.  183 

"And  you  came  all  this  journey  to  satisfy  Georgie's 
fancies;  but,  Mr.  M'Kenzie,  you  should  not,"  cried  Kate, 
quite  ashamed  and  contrite;  "you  are  a  great  deal  too 
good,  and  it  is  spoiling  him." 

Mr.  M'Kenzie  laughed  as  if  amused. 

"Is  it.-*  I  don't  know  much  about  children  unfortu- 
nately, or  how  far  you  may  gratify  without  spoiling  them ; 
but  it  is  not  too  good  of  me,  Miss  Bellew,  or  good  at  all ;  for 
I  think.  I  considered  my  own  pleasure  quite  as  much  as 
his." 

Kate  did  not  believe  this,  and  said  out  her  thoughts. 

"  1  am  afraid  you  are  making  him  a  great  trouble  to 
you.     Mamma  would  be  vexed  if  she  knew." 

"  Indeed  1  am  not.  It  is  a  pleasant  change  in  my  lonely 
life  to  have  so  lively  a  young  companion ;  and  I  am  not 
at  all  sorry  to  get  a  breath  of  country  air  and  a  look  at 
the  sea  upon  so  decent  an  excuse.  George  and  I  are  'lo- 
cated' at  the  inn;  so  when  we  become  too  much  for  you, 
just  send  us  away ;  for  I  am  afraid  we  are  both  rather 
self-indulgent  people,  and  not  inclined  to  think  of  others' 
comfort  when  we  are  gratifying  our  own.  How  is  your 
elder  brother  ?  " 

Kate  answered  him  gratefully.  Knowing  how  delight- 
ful the  beginning  of  the  season  was  to  herself,  and  for- 
getting that  Mr.  M'Kenzie's  greater  age  and  experience 
might  have  rather  damped  his  taste  for  pleasure,  she 
thought  it  wonderfully  unselfish  of  him  to  have  even  torn 
himself  away  from  it  for  a  couple  of  days. 

"  I  don't  believe  one  of  the  men  who  take  one  down  to 
dinner,  and  are  always  wanting  to  do  things  for  one, 
would  dream  of  taking  such  a  journey  to  please  a  little 
boy,"  thought  Kate,  who  had  apparently  forgotten  that 
"comparisons  are  odious,"  and  was  not  yet  sufficiently 
conceited  to  fancy  that  Mr.  M'Kenzie  could  have  taken 
such  a  journey  for  the  sole  purpose  of  seeing  her. 

They  all  walked  back  to  the  house  together,  George 
and  Dotlie  laden  with  wild  fiowers,  and  the  former  in  a 
state  of  rampant  excitement  over  a  great  plan  for  surpris- 
ing Madge  on  her  return.  Dottie  said  little,  being  con- 
scious that  her  part  in  life  at  present  was  to  listen  and 


184  PRETTY  MISS  BELLEIV. 

obey,  and  further  divided  between  the  difficulty  of  hold- 
ing a  stack  of  flowers  ahnost  as  big  as  herself,  and  not 
tumbling  head  over  heels  over  all  and  each  of  the  stones 
and  twigs  which  would  come  in  the  way  of  her  baby 
feet ;  but  George  held  forth  volubly,  scraps  of  his  mono- 
logue floating  backwards  to  Kate  and  M'Kenzie  walking 
more  quietly  behind. 

"And  then  I  shall  be  under  the  sofa,  and  you  are  to 
say" — "As  loud  a  yell  as  I  can" — "but  mind,'Dottie,  you 
don't  even  look  as  if — " 

Mr.  M'Kenzie  smiled. 

"The  happiest  age!"  he  said,  a  little  enviously.  "Ev- 
erything before  it,  disappointment  a  word  unknown,  and 
every  pebble  in  its  path  a  jewel.  I  wish  one  could  go 
back  to  it." 

"  I  don't,"  said  Kate,  who  was  not  of  a  looking-back 
temperament,  "and  I  think  childish  disappointments  are 
keener  than  aU  others.  I  can  remember  some  of  mine 
now,  particularly  one  when  Uncle  Theo.  had  promised  to 
take  me  to  a  pantomime  on  my  birthday.  It  was  quite 
an  unheard-of  thing  for  him  to  do,  but  I  was  only  five 
years  old,  and  I  believe  he  had  taken  a  fancy  to  me  for 
something  I  said  or  did.  Anyhow  he  promised  to  come 
for  me  on  that  evening,  and  I  was  wild  with  excitement 
for  two  days  beforehand,  and  wilder  still  when  the  even- 
ing came,  and  no  uncle !  Papa  and  mamma  had  to  go 
out  to  dinner,  so  I  sat  dressed  up  in  all  my  finery,  and 
waiting  in  the  drawing-room — for  I  thought  I  could  hear 
the  first  sound  of  the  carriage-wheels  better  there  than  in 
the  nursery — and  in  the  end  he  never  came!  He  had 
forgotten  all  about  his  promise  almost  as  soon  as  it  was 
given.  Do  you  know,  I  can  recall  now  the  misery  of 
disappointment  I  suftered,  until  at  last  I  cried  myself  to 
sleep.  Papa  took  me  on  the  following  night,  and  I  dare 
say — in  fact,  I  know — I  enjoyed  it  very  much;  but  no 
after-pleasure  could  blot  out  the  past  pain,  and,  you  see, 
I  remember  it  still." 

"Poor  child  !"  said  Mr.  M'Kenzie,  smiling  on  her  very 
kindly.  "  Poor  little  child  !  P)Ut  it  is  difficult  to  imagine 
you  in  tears  now.     I  should  hardly  have  thought  you  had 


PRE  TTY  MISS  BELLE  W.  185 

ever  known  what  crying  meant;   and  you  surprise  me  in 
another  point." 

"Wliat  is  that  ?"  said  Kate,  as  he  paused.  "But  I  can 
cry,  I  assure  you,  even  now.  Sometimes  I  cry  over  books 
— Dickens  and — but  what  is  the  other  thing  ?" 

"I  am  afraid  you  would  not  hke  me  to  tell  you." 

"  Indeed  I  shall.     What  is  it  ?" 

"Well,  I  did  not  think  you  were  a  girl — I  beg  your 
pardon  :  a  young  lady — to  nurse  an  injury,  however  cruel, 
in  your  mind.  I  could  fancy  you  getting  very  angry  at  a 
pinch" — and  he  smiled — "and  perhaps  stamping  your 
foot,  and  withering  up  an  offender  with  a  few  hot  words; 
but  I  did  not  think  it  was  in  your  nature  to  remember  the 
wrong  done  for  years  afterwards." 

He  spoke  half  in  jest,  half  dreamily ;  but  Kate  took  it 
quite  au  sericux.  Indeed,  considering  that  .she  was 
rather  fond  of  boasting  her  indifference  to  other  people's 
ill  opinion,  and  of  asserting  that  a  consciousness  of  your 
own  rectitude  ought  to  be  sufficient  for  any  reasonable 
person,  the  young  lady  betrayed  a  somewhat  suspicious 
soreness  and  mortification  under  this  suggestion  of  blame 
from  her  new  friend. 

"  I  do  not  remember  it  in  the  way  you  mean,"  she 
said,  reddening  like  a  rose,  and  showing  a  great  disposi- 
tion to  pout.  "  1  was  not  even  angry  with  Uncle  Theo. 
then — 1  was  too  unhappy.  It  is  only  the  disappoint- 
ment I  reniember.  Mr.  M'Kenzie,  please  do  not  think 
I  am  so  unforgiving  and  revengeful  as  all  that.  I  am 
not :  indeed  I  am  not.  I  may  have  a  quick  temper" — 
and  Kate  reddened  deeper  still — "  I  dare  say  I  have,  and 
that  you  may  have  even  seen  me  show  it ;  but  I  am 
always  very  sorry  afterwards.  Dick  knows  I  am,  and — 
and  nobody  ever  minds  me :  not  even  the  children.  If 
you  knew — " 

'•  But  I  thii\k  1  do  know,"  Mr.  M'Kenzie  broke  in, 
looking  down  wiUi  a  gentle  mingling  of  liking  and 
amusement  into  the  fair,  flushed  face.  "I  could  not 
even  fancy  you  unforgiving  or  revengeful  in  the  very 
least.  Did  I  not  say  so  ?  And  as  to  temper,  you  must 
have  strangely  misunderstood   my   awkward    speech,   if 


1 86  PRETTY  MISS  BELLE W. 

you  thought  I  beheved  you  to  have  a  quicker  temper 
than  goes  with  every  warm  heart  and  fresh  impulsive 
mind.  Beheve  me,  the  person  who  has  lost  the  power 
of  getting  honestly  and  justly  angry,  has  lost  much  of 
what  is  noble  and  loving  and  true  into  the  bargain.  No, 
I  spoke  from — well,  I  am  afraid  from  unhappy  reminis- 
cences— from  the  memory  of  a  woman  who  never  forgot, 
even  when  she  forgave,  and  whose  forgiveness  thus  lost 
half,  and  more  than  half,  of  its  value ;  and  yet  her  heart 
was  warm — once.  Was  it  that  impossibility  of  forgetting 
even  the  smallest  wrong  which  chilled  it  through  and 
through  ! " 

He  had  forgotten  Kate  utterly  before  he  finished,  and 
was  talking  with  his  great  dark  eyes  fixed  in  a  sort  of 
feverish  yearning  on  the  misty  blue  horizon,  with  a  quiver 
of  repressed  pain  about  his  mouth  which  made  the  girl's 
heart  thrill  with  quick  responsive  sympathy.  She  saw 
plainly  that  she  and  all  about  her  had  passed  out  of  his 
mind ;  but  she  was  not  offended.  It  was  only  another 
proof  that  he  was  not  like  other  men ;  and  with  all  her 
girlish  curiosity  she  wondered  who  or  what  was  this 
woman  whom  he  must  have  loved  so  passionately,  since 
the  mere  thought  of  her  blotted  out  present  things ;  and 
who  had  given  him  nothing  but  coldness  and  pain  in 
return — ay,  and  hard  thoughts  of  other  and  gentler  women 
for  her  sake,  the  girl  thought  with  a  faint  unconscious  re- 
sentment against  the  unknown  shade  she  was  conjuring  up. 

The  children  were  running  and  laughing  through  the 
ferns  and  underwood  before  them ;  but  she  had  forgotten 
them  as  he  (Dallas)  had  forgotten  her,  and  walked  on  in 
a  sort  of  painful,  wondering  silence  at  his  side.  And  yet 
it  was  so  beautiful  around  them  !  The  young  trees  almost 
leafless  yet  in  this  exposed  part;  or  rather  only  budded 
over  with  tender  leaflets ;  but  green,  green  all  over,  trunk 
and  limbs,  and  every  twig  and  shoot,  with  a  mossy  verdure 
which  gave  them  the  appearance  of  being  covered  wdth 
some  delicate,  emerald-hued  lichen,  and  made  it  difficult 
to  tell  where  the  leaves  were  out  or  the  branches  bare: 
trees  which  looked  as  if  they  had  been  lightly  sketched 
in  with  a  brush  full  of  wet  green  paint  on  a  background 


PRE  TTY  MISS  BELLE  W.  187 

of  pale  pure  cobalt ;  and  springing  from  a  bed  of  bracken, 
brown  and  dry,  and  making  a  pleasant  contrast  to  the 
vivid  emerald  of  meadows  beyond.  There  was  nothing 
to  impede  the  view  as  in  full-leafed  summer.  You  could 
see  from  end  to  end  of  the  copse  through  this  exquisite 
moss-tinted  tracery :  could  catch  the  diamond-like  leap 
and  flash  of  the  little  brook  rippling  through  a  bed  of 
reeds  on  its  way  to  the  sea ;  and  beyond  the  trees  the 
dusky  greens  and  browns,  dashed  with  gold,  of  the  gorse- 
clad  common  :  and,  further  still,  the  broad  patches  of  rich 
umber-colored  plowed  land  on  the  hills.  A  few  more 
steps,  and  they  came  out  into  the  full  breeze  and  sunshine 
of  the  unsheltered  moor,  so  bright  and  wind-swept,  that 
all  the  depression  vanished  from  M'Kenzie  like  a  cloud 
scattered  by  the  sunbeams :  his  very  step  grew  more 
elastic,  his  eyes  lightened,  and  his  lips  parted. 

"  How  silent  we  are  ! "  he  said.  "  Is  the  day  or  the 
scene  too  lovely  for  talking;"  and  then  his  eye  fell  on 
Kate,  and  he  asked,  anxiously: 

"You  are  not  offended  with  me.  Miss  Bellew,  are  you  ? 
I  am  sure  I  gave  you  cause;  but  bear  in  mind  what  a 
rough  old  backwoodsman  1  am,  and  please  forgive  me." 

"Angry  !  Oh,  no  !"  said  Kate,  heartily.  It  was  on  her 
lips  to  say  that  the  fact  of  his  asking  it  was  an  additional 
proof  that  he  believed  in  what  he  had  implied  as  to  her 
capacity  for  resentment  :  on  her  lips,  but  not  in  her  heart. 
Have  1  not  told  you  how  })rone  Katie  was  to  frightening 
away  the  young  men  by  sharp  speeches,  which  somehow 
bubbled  up  to  her  tongue  without  being  prompted  by  any 
"malice  prepense?"  It  was  something  too  strong  for 
even  the  girlish  impulse  to  repartee  which  stayed  her 
speech  now ;  and  she  had  her  reward  in  a  grateful  smile, 
and  a  "thank  you"  as  heartily  spoken  as  her  answer. 

It  was  lunch  time  when  they  got  back  to  the  cottage ; 
and  Dallas  M'Kenzie  noted  with  a  sen.se  of  pleasure  and 
jamusement  Kate's  happy  flutter,  all  unspoiled  by  any  shade 
of  embarrassment,  at  playing  sole  hostess  for  tlie  occa- 
sion, and  the  almost  childishly  high  spirits  which  danced 
in  her  eyes,  and  rang  in  every  word  she  uttered.  She 
was  like  a  child  playing  at  housekeeping,  and  the  girlish 


1 88  PRETTY  MISS  BELLE W. 

fun  mingling  with  the  little  solemn  affectations  of  mat- 
ronhood  and  sobriety  were  bewitching  enough  to  charm 
an  anchorite  into  forgetfulness  of  his  vows. 

"  A  very  sweet  little  girl,  large-hearted  and  simple- 
minded,"  Dallas  thought  to  himself.  "What  a  bonny 
type  of  an  English  wife  and  mother  she  will  make  some 
of  these  days  !  I  hope  she  will  get  a  good  husband ;  for 
upon  my  life  I  don't  know  any  young  fellow  worthy  of 
her." 

It  may  seem  strange,  but  no  thought  of  himself  came 
into  his  mind  with  the  suggestion ;  and  yet  I  doubt  if, 
just  then,  he  would  have  resented  the  idea  if  propounded, 
or  offered  other  objection  than — "Bah,  I  am  too  old  by 
a  dozen  years  for  her,"  or  "  My  day  for  that  sort  of  thing 
has  passed."  They  all  went  into  the  garden  after  lunch, 
and  sat  under  the  almond-tree,  talking  and  looking  over 
the  sea,  till,  on  the  boat  with  Dick  and  Madge  in  it  com- 
ing into  sight,  George  insisted  that  Mr.  M'Kenzie  should 
retire  out  of  view,  and  Kate  lend  her  aid  in  his  "surprise." 
He  had  planned  it  all  beforehand ;  but,  when  it  came  to 
the  point,  was  not  contented  with  any  of  the  hiding-places 
suggested ;  and  was  still  standing  in  the  middle  of  the 
floor,  wavering  between  the  choice  of  a  cupboard  or  a 
window-curtain,  when  the  door  opened — there  was  a  loud 
shriek,  "  George ! !  " — and  Madge  flung  herself  upon  him, 
and  nearly  knocked  him  down  with  the  vehemence  of  her 
greeting. 

The  boat  had  come  to  land  sooner  than  was  expected, 
and  it  was  George  who  was  surprised  after  all. 

Dick  joined  the  party  in  a  few  minutes;  and,  to  Kate's 
great  relief,  forgave  his  younger  brother's  arrival  in  pleas- 
ure at  having  a  fellow-man  to  talk  to.  He  had  seen  very 
little  of  Dallas  M'Kenzie,  and  the  two,  being  neither  of 
an  age  nor  a  temperament  to  assimilate,  had  not  cared 
much  for  one  another ;  but  Dallas  liked  Kate  sufficiently 
to  pardon  a  great  deal  in  her  relations ;  and  Dick  was  so 
glad  to  see  some  one  with  the  latest  news  from  London, 
that  he  put  on  his  best  colors,  and  made  the  guest  so 
heartily  welcome  that  Dallas  thought  the  young  man  had 
his  good  points  in   him  after  all.     Kate  felt  highly  de- 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW.  1S9 

lighted;  for  her  brother  had  been  growling  ominously 
the  last  two  or  three  days  about  not  having  a  soul,  man 
or  woman,  to  speak  to  besides  his  own  family ;  and  she 
had  found  a  friend,  a  very  interesting  one  of  her  own  sex, 
of  whom  more  must  be  said  hereafter,  but  of  whom  she 
had  said  nothing  to  anyone:  albeit  her  conscience  re- 
proached her  for  keejjing  any  pleasure,  however  small,  a 
secret  from  the  brother  she  would  have  liked  to  have 
shared  it  with.  Mr.  M'Kenzie's  arrival  was  therefore 
doubly  pleasant  to  her  when  she  saw  that  it  pleased  Dick; 
and  she  sat  between  them  radiant  with  smiles,  and  manag- 
ing with  pretty  womanly  tact  to  draw  out  just  the  good 
points  in  each  whicli  could  be  best  appreciated  in  the 
other. 

There  would  be  greater  peace  and  goodwill  in  the 
world  did  women  always  employ  their  tact  in  a  similar 
manner. 

Mr.  M'Kenzie  stayed  two  or  three  days,  very  pleasant 
days,  during  which  Kate  came  to  know  and  like  him  bet- 
ter tlian  she  had  ever  done  before  ;  and  Dick  did  not  lose 
his  temper  once!  At  the  beginning  of  their  stay  he  had 
received  one  or  two  unpleasant  letters  (one  from  Clive), 
over  which  he  had  sworn  viciously,  and  which  had  left 
him  moody  and  irritable  for  the  whole  day  afterwards; 
but  apparently -their  remembrance  had  passed  out  of  his 
mind  by  now;  and  Kate,  somewhat  unjustly,  attributed 
the  favorable  alteration  to  the  change  of  friends. 

"There  is  something  about  Mr.  Olive  which  7nakes'i^to- 
l)le  cross  and  disagreeable ;  1  am  glad  he  is  not  here," 
the  young  lady  thought,  witli  uncharitable  fervor.  "  Mr. 
M'Kenzie  never  blames  Dick,  or  roughs  him  up.  How 
different  the  dear  boy  is  with  him!" 

If  that  thought  was  wrong,  it  was  most  decidedly  pun- 
ished, and  with  no  lack  of  speed.  On  the  third  morning 
of  Mr.  M'Kenzie's  stay,  Dick  laid  down  a  letter,  over 
which  he  had  been  growling  through  the  chief  part  of 
breakfast,  with  the  remark  : 

"See  that  there  is  something  decent  for  dinner  to-day, 
Kate.     Clive's  coming." 

"  Coming — coming  hrrr  /"  cried  Kate,  with  a  ludicrous 
face  of  dismay.     '•\\'hat  for?     Has  anything  happened?" 


I  go  ^^J'-  Try  MISS  BELLE  W. 

"  Happened  ?  Nonsense !  Don't  look  as  if  you  had 
swallowed  a  donkey,  hoofs  and  all"  (certainly  Clive's  let- 
ters had  not  a  soothing  effect  on  Dick's  mind  or  manners). 
"What  should  have  happened?  I  asked  him  long  ago 
to  run  down  and  see  me  if  he  possibly  could  ;  and  he 
says  he  is  coming  from  Saturday  (that  is  to-day)  till  Mon- 
day. I  suppose  there  are  plenty  of  rooms  to  be  got  at 
the  inn,  M'Kenzie?" 

Dallas  said  he  believed  that  there  were.  He  was 
breakfasting  with  them,  and  looked  with  some  surprise  at 
the  unwonted  disturbance  on  his  young  hostess's  brow. 
Perhaps  the  idea  crossed  his  mind  that  it  might  be  occa- 
sioned by  the  prospective  trouble  of  having  two  guests  to 
entertain — "poor  child!" — and  accordingly,  as  soon  as 
breakfast  was  over,  and  Dick  had  gone  up  to  the  inn,  to 
engage  a  room  for  Clive,  he  said : 

"  I  hope  George  won't  think  me  very  barbarous  if  I 
carry  him  off  to  town  again  to-day.  I  really  think  I 
ought  not  to  stay  away  any  longer." 

Kate  was  folding  up  the  newspaper  which  Dick  had 
left  upon  the  floor.  She  dropped  it  again  when  he 
spoke,  facing  round  upon  him  with  a  most  genuine 
expression  of  concern. 

"To-day!  Oh,  Mr.  M'Kenzie,  do  not.  What  can  you 
want  in  town  before  Monday  at  any  rate  ?  Yes,  we 
should  all  think  you  very  barbarous  to  go,  just  as  Mr. 
Clive  is  coming  too,  and  you  are  really  wanted." 

"But,  my  dear  Miss  Bellew,  it  is  just  because  Mr. 
Clive  is  coming  that  I  should  think  I  could  not  be 
wanted.  It  is  very  good  and  sweet  of  you  to  make  me 
so  welcome ;  but  still,  to  have  two  gentlemen  on  your 
hands  at  once — " 

"But  you  are  not  on  my  hands,"  cried  Kate,  quite 
laughing  at  the  idea,  "and  Mr.  Clive  is  so — well,  I  ought 
not  to  abuse  him,  and  I  dare  say  he  means  well,  and  is 
very  good,  and  all  that  (Dick  likes  him,  you  know,  so 
there  must  be  some  good  in  him),  but  if  you  would  stop 
just  while  he  is  here,  I  should  be — it  would  make  it  so 
much  more  pleasant,"  and  Kate  looked  up  in  almost 
childish  pleading.      M'Kenzie  smiled  at  the  pretty,  con- 


FKE TTY  MISS  BELLE  IV.  i  g  I 

fused,  coaxing  jumble,  and  felt  glad  he  was  not  Bernard 
Clive,  to  be  the  subject  of  such  barely  \x'ile(l  dislike. 

"Of  course  1  will  stay  if  you  wish  it,"  he  said.  "Do 
you  think  it  is  so  unpleasant  to  me  ?  I  don't  care  very 
much  about  improving  Mr.  Clive's  acquaintance;  but 
not  from  any  dislike  to  him,  for  I  have  always  heard  of 
him  as  a  very  clever,  honorable  young  man,  and — " 

"  Perfect  in  every  way ! "  put  in  Kate,  spitefully. 
"There!"  (recollecting  herself),  "see  how  petty  even 
talking  of  him  makes  me !  but  I  can't  help  it — indeed  I 
can't ;  and  he  can't  bear  me,  so  that  I  am  not  wholly  to 
blame.     By  the  way,  did  you  not  meet  him  abroad  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  M'Kenzie  (a  very  simple  answer,  which 
stopped  the  utterance  of  sundry  more  questions  on  Kate's 
lips,  and  set  her  pondering,  without  knowing  why).  Five 
minutes  later  she  came  out  with  the  result  of  her  medita- 
tions. 

"I  wish  I  could  hold  my  tongue." 

"Do  you?"  said  M'Kenzie,  laughing  outright  at  the 
abruptness  of  the  speech,  and  the  comically  penitent  look 
which  accompanied  it ;  "I  am  sure  I  don't." 

"Then  you  ought  to  do  so,"  cried  Kate,  too  remorseful 
to  heed  his  mirth.  "If  I  had  no  tongue,  I  should  be 
quite  good — really  good — and  now  I  am  not.  Of  course 
it  is  wrong  to  go  on  sneering  at  Mr.  Clive,  when  he  is  one 
of  Dick's  friends  too.  It  is  not  even  dignified  or  ladylike, 
and  you  must  know  it  is  not ;  but  it  is  only  a  way  of  talk- 
ing, Mr.  M'Kenzie.  We  never  have  liked  each  other, 
but—" 

"  But  you  would  hardly  rejoice  if  a  railway  accident 
smashed  him  up  into  infinitesimal  atoms  coming  down 
here,"  Dallas  suggested.  "No,  Miss  Bellew,  don't  be 
afraid.  I  lay  very  little  stress  on  enmities  so  frankly 
avowed;  and  as  to  Mr.  Clive  disliking  you — " 

"But  he  does,"  cried  Kate,  clasping  her  hands  together 
to  give  emphasis  to  the  sentence.  "  You've  no  idea  how 
he  does.  Why"  (with  a  look  which,  added  to  the  naivete 
of  the  conclusion,  made  M'Kenzie's  eyes  dance),  "that  is 
just  why  I  don't  like  him." 

"A    very    natural    and    proper    reason,"    Dallas    said, 


192 


PRErrV  MJSS  BELLE IV. 


gravely.  "And  so  you  want  me  to  help  in  keeping  the 
peace,  and  reminding  you  that  'your  little  hands  were 
never  meant  to  tear  each  other's  eyes.'  Is  not  that  quoted 
correctly  ?  Very  well.  I  had  reasons  for  not  caring  to 
grow  more  intimate  with  Mr.  Clive  than  was  necessary; 
but  in  such  a  cause  of  course  they  vanish.  Let  me  make 
one  request,  however.  If  you  don't  want  me  to  dislike 
your  friend  even  more  than  you  do,  please  put  off  that 
very  grave  little  face.  You  have  been  looking  so  bright 
till  now,  that  we  could  not  easily  feel  in  charity  with  any 
one  who  spoiled  our  house  sunshine." 

Kate  laughed  and  promised.  She  was  indeed  feeling  too 
happy  to  care  much  for  the  mere  prospect  of  Clive's  grave 
looks  and  strictures.  True,  the  brightness  faded  a  little 
when  she  found  that  M'Kenzie  was  not  going  to  dine 
with  them  that  day ;  but  she  said  hardly  a  word  to  press 
him,  for  had  not  Dick  spoken  something  about  business  to 
discuss  with  Clive,  and  was  it  not  therefore  most  delicate 
and  thoughtful  in  the  other  guest  to  discover  that  an  old 
school  acquaintance  of  his  had  a  living  some  eight  miles 
off,  and  must  be  visited  on  this  special  evening  ?  The 
brightness  came  back  in  a  minute,  and  M'Kenzie's  good- 
byes were  sweetened  by  a  smile  which  made  even  the 
sunshine  look  dull  and  cheerless  by  comparison  during 
the  first  part  of  his  ride.  For  the  first  time  an  idea  came 
into  his  mind  so  strange  as  to  startle  him.  At  first  he  re- 
jected it  with  prompt  decision ;  but  it  came  back  again 
and  knocked  persistently  for  admittance. 

"She  likes  me  already,  likes  and  trusts  me  as  though  I 
were  an  old  friend,  instead  of  a  comparative  stranger. 
Would  it  be  hard  to  turn  such  liking  into  love,  and  keep 
that  living  sunshine  for  my  own  ?  " 

Verily  and  indeed  a  strange  idea,  and  one  not  to  be 
lightly  entertained  by  Dallas  M'Kenzie.  Did  not  the 
shadow  of  another  woman  stand  between  him  and  the 
possession  of  any  such  sunshine  as  he  coveted  ?  He  put 
the  idea  away  from  him  with  a  shivering  frown,  and  rode 
on  gloomily. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

AN    UNSOCIABLE    ARTIST. 

I  HAVE  heard  women  say  that  it  is  sometimes  neces- 
sary to  go  back  in  a  piece  of  fancy  work,  and  pick  up 
dropped  stitches,  the  want  of  which  might  impair  the 
symmetry  of  the  entire  pattern.  In  hke  manner  I  must 
go  back  now  in  my  narrative,  and  mention  a  Httle  inci- 
dent which,  trifling  as  it  seemed,  was  not  without  impor- 
tance in  the  history  of  Kate  Bellew's  hfe. 

Is  anything  without  importance,  by  the  way,  in  this 
world  of  ours,  and  have  not  the  very  gravest  events  in  the 
whole  history  of  man  sometimes  hung  upon  the  slightest 
pegs  ?  For  my  part  it  is  always  the  little  things  and  first 
steps  which  I  look  after.  The  big  things,  the  crises  and 
crashes  of  life,  must  generally  be  left  to  (iod.  They  are 
out  of  our  power  to  remedy  or  control  when  they  have 
come  to  their  full  ripeness.  If  we  want  to  prevent  a  tree 
from  bearing  fruit,  we  must  nip  off  the  buds  in  spring 
time. 

Not  many  days  after  their  arrival  at  Combe  Regis, 
Kate  had  occasion  to  go  over  to  the  nearest  town,  to  cash 
a  check  her  mother  had  sent  her.  It  was  Dick's  duty  to 
go  of  course,  Kate  knowing  about  as  much  of  business  as 
a  fly  of  farming ;  but  Dick  had  a  sick-headache ;  and 
though  his  sister  privately  thought  the  air  would  do  it 
more  good  than  lying  on  the  sofa  smoking  endless  paper 
cigars,  she  only  ventured  to  suggest  as  much  very  gently; 
and  her  suggestion  being  received  with  a  somewhat  indig- 
nant contradiction,  the  young  lady  acquiesced  at  once 
with  a  good-humored  : 

'3  193 


I  g4  PRE  TT  V  MISS  BELLE  VV. 

"Well,  never  mind,  dear,  only  as  there  is  that  check  to 
be  cashed  to-day,  I  shall  have  to  leave  you  and  go  about 
it  myself." 

"  What  a  bore  !"  said  Dick,  lazily  ;  "can't  Martin  go  ?" 

"  No,  she  doesn't  know  the  way ;  and  besides,  she  can't 
walk  a  mile.  You  know  she's  got  a  stiff  knee  or  some- 
thing." 

"A  stiff  humbug!  I  believe  it's  nothing  but  laziness. 
But  you  can't  go  alone,  Kittie." 

"Oh!  Madge  will  go  with  me.  It's  not  much  over 
six  miles  there  and  back ;  and  we  went  much  further  yes- 
terday along  the  coast." 

"All  right,  only  you'll  have  to  make  haste;  for  I  sup- 
pose country  banks  close  at  the  same  time  as  London 
ones;  and  make  haste  back — I'm  sure  if  any  one  were 
to  read  aloud  it  would  do  my  confounded  head  good." 

"You  shall  have  some  reading  aloud  in  the  evening, 
M.  Exigeant ;  that  is,  if  you're  good — not  unless,"  said 
Kate,  laughing  and  kissing  him  ;  and  then  the  two  girls  ran 
upstairs  to  dress  for  their  walk,-  and  Dick  was  left  to  his 
cigar. 

"  I  hope  Kittie  will  never  take  it  into  her  head  to  get 
married,"  he  said  to  himself,  with  that  pure  unselfishness 
which  was  the  leading  characteristic  of  this  young  man's 
mind.  "  She's  a  comfortable  sort  of  girl  to  have  about 
'one  in  a  house :  a  Httle  too  peppery  perhaps,  and  apt  to 
go  off  like  a  squib  on  romantic  rhodomontades  of  honor 
and  that  sort  of  thing,  but  one  might  get  a  worse  in  the 
way  of  a  sister.  Now  there's  Fanny,  confound  her! — 
the  most  bewitching  little  gipsy  in  existence ;  but  even  if 
she  were  a  lady  and  an  heiress,  which  she  isn't — and  my 
wife  into  the  bargain,  which,  as  it  is,  she  can't  be — I  should 
like  to  have  Kate  about  the  house.  She  knows  my  ways, 
you  see,  and  of  course  she  knows  it's  her  duty  to  give  in 
to  them,  and  make  a  fellow  decently  comfortable ;  but 
Fanny's  so  deucedly  obstinate,  she  expects  you  to  give 
in  to  her,  and  /^<?rways;  and  until  she'd  learned  her  place, 
there  would  be  breezes.  There's  nothing  takes  it  out  of 
a  fellow  like  rows  at  home — nothing;  and  Kate  never 
makes  a   row  about  anything.     I  do   hope  she   won't  be 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 


195 


wanting  to  clear  oft"  with  some  one,  one  of  these  tine 
days;  but  girls  are  so  confoundedly  selfish,  one  can  never 
depend  on  them  for  an  hour  together." 

And  Dick  stretched  himself  out  on  the  sofa  with  a 
weary  yawn,  and  went  to  sleep. 

The  two  girls,  in  the  meanwhile,  had  set  out  briskly  on 
the  road  to  Greybridge,  the  little  town  to  which  ihey  were 
bound.  Madge  was  in  high  spirits  at  having  her  sister 
"all  to  herself"  for  a  walk,  and  chattered  away  as  fast  as 
she  walked,  so  that  the  road  was  got  over  in  no  time; 
and  they  had  reached  Greybridge,  cashed  their  check,  and 
had  even  made  a  purchase  of  one  or  two  articles  which 
Combe  Regis  was  too  primitive  to  produce,  before  five 
striking  from  the  old  church-tower  in  the  High  Street 
warned  them  that  it  was  time  to  return. 

"  I  feel  as  fresh  as  if  I  could  run  the  whole  way,"  said 
Madge,  as  they  struck  into  the  lanes  again.  "Isn't  it  a 
lovely  afternoon  ? — and  oh  !  look  at  that  goldfinch,  Katie ; 
I  wonder  if  he  has  a  nest  in  the  hedge." 

"  Don't  go  after  him  with  those  parcels,"  said  Kate, 
"and  be  content  with  walking,  Madg'ie.  If  you  frisk 
about  in  that  way  you'll  tumble  down  in  another  minute, 
and  sj-jill  all  the  biscuits  into  the  road." 

And  then,  in  the  very  moment  of  speaking,  the  thing 
she  prophesied  came  to  pass.  Madge  was  scampering 
from  one  side  to  the  other  of  the  road,  as  first  one  thing 
and  then  another  attracted  her  attention,  when  she  caught 
her  foot  against  a  stone,  and  came  headlong  to  the  ground, 
sending  her  parcels  and  their  contents  flying  into  the  dust 
and  gravel.  Kate  ran  and  picked  her  up,  more  vexed 
than  compassionate  at  first. 

"There,  Madge!  I  told  you  so.  What  a  pity  it  is  you 
are  such  a  tomboy  !  and  nearly  thirteen  too  !  Do  look  at 
the  tea  all  spilled  and  wasted  ;  and  the  biscuits  too.  One 
can  gather  them  up,  but — " 

"I've  hurt  myself,"  said  Madge,  "don't  scold  me, 
Katie,  I  didn't  mean  it,  and  I'm  very  sorry ;  but  I've  hurt 
my  foot.  Oh !  I've  hurt  it  awfully,"  and,  after  one  futile 
attempt  at  standing  upright,  she  subsided  into  a  sitting 
position  in  the  middle  of  the  dusty  lane,  and  began  to 


196 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 


cry.  Kate  knelt  down  beside  her,  all  sympathy  in  a  mo- 
ment. 

"  My  poor  child !  I  am  so  sorry.  Let  me  look  at  it. 
Do — I  won't  hurt  you,  indeed,"  and  with  very  tender 
fingers,  Madge  flinching  and  almost  screaming  during  the 
process,  she  proceeded  to  take  off  the  girl's  boot  and 
stocking,  and  lay  bare  the  wounded  member. 

Madge  stopped  her  tears  to  look  at  it,  and  then  broke 
out  afresh  at  the  sight  of  the  blood. 

"I've  broken  my  ankle,  and  I  shan't  be  able  to  walk 
all  the  rest  of  the  time  we  are  here,"  she  sobbed,  dolefully. 

"  Oh !  no,  you  haven't,"  said  Kate,  who  had  been  ex- 
amining the  injury.  "You've  bruised  your  instep,  and 
taken  the  skin  oft"  your  ankle  and  shin;  and  I  think  you 
may  have  strained  it  a  little ;  but  that's  all ;  so  don't  cry, 
Madgie  dear,  there's  a  brave  girl.  I  really  think  you 
could  stand  if  you  tried.  Put  your  foot  down  on  my 
handkerchief,  and  see." 

"  Do  you  think  it  is  really  not  broken  ?  "  asked  Madge, 
a  little  reassured  by  Kate's  tone ;  and  then  she  did  as  ad- 
vised, and  stood 'up. 

"It  hurts  dreadfully,"  she  said,  sitting  down  again  after 
a  trial  of  a  few  seconds.  "I  can  stand;  but  I'm  sure  I 
couldn't  walk  a  dozen  yards;  and  it  is  such  a  long  way 
home.     Katie,  what  shall  we  do  ?  " 

"I  think  we  had  better  wait  a  little,"  said  Kate,  trying 
to  speak  more  cheerfully  than  she  felt.  "  Perhaps  the 
pain  will  go  oft"  in  a  few  minutes  if  you  let  the  foot  rest. 
Here,  Madge,  lean  on  me,  and  try  to  hop  to  the  bank 
under  the  hedge.  I  would  carry  you  if  I  could,  but 
you're  too  heavy ;  and  you  will  be  more  comfortable 
there." 

Madge  obeyed,  but  the  movement  evidently  gave  her 
great  pain  ;  and  Kate  felt  seriously  unhappy.  The  fact 
was,  she  did  not  know  what  to  do.  They  were  more 
than  half  a  mile  from  Greybridge,  and  quite  two  and  a 
half  from  Combe  Regis.  In  Madge's  present  state  it 
was  equally  impossible  for  her  to  walk  to  one  as  to  the 
other.  They  were  oft"  the  highroad,  too,  where  people 
would  be  likely  to  be  passing;    and  if  Kate  were  to  go 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 


197 


back  to  Greybridge  for  assistance,  she  would  be  obliged 
to  leave  Madge  alone — an  idea  which  she  did  not  like  at 
all.  Suppose  the  pain  were  to  get  worse  while  she  were 
away,  and  Madge  were  to  faint;  and  suppose  some  cattle 
came  by  and  trampled  her,  or  a  tipsy  man,  or  even  a  sav- 
age dog!  All  sorts  of  alarming  possibilities  came  into 
her  mind  as  she  sat  thinking  over  it.  And  when  she  said 
at  last,  "1  think,  Madgie,  I  shall  have  to  go  back  to  the 
town,  and  see  if  1  can't  find  a  vehicle  of  some  sort  to 
take  you  home  in,"  her  voice  had  an  uncertain  ring  in  it, 
which  made  Madge  hold  tighter  to  the  arm  which  was 
supporting  her,  and  cry  out : 

"  Oh !  don't  leave  me  alone,  Kate.  That  would  be 
worst  of  all.  I  shouldn't  mind  it  a  bit  if  I  could  run 
away  from  anything;  but  don't  leave  me  as  I  am." 

"But,  my  dear  Madgie,  what  are  we  to  do?  We 
can't  sit  here  all  the  evening;  and  I  don't  think  even  if 
your  foot  got  better  you  ought  to  walk  on  it.  It  looks 
as  if  it  were  swelling  now." 

Madge  felt  it,  and  said  it  was.  "It  doesn't  hurt 
nearly  so  much,"  she  said,  hopefully. 

But  Kate  shook  her  head.  She  knew  walking  was  out 
of  the  question  now;  and  though  she  smiled,  it  was 
pardy  to  hide  the  glimmer  of  tears  in  her  eyes  as  she 
repeatetl : 

"  I  don't  know  what  we  are  to  do." 

"If  we  wait  a  little,  some  one  may  pass  whom  we  can 
send  back  to  town  for  a  wheel-barrow,"  said  Madge, 
with  a  brave  effort  at  laughing.  "  Don't  look  so  awfully 
sorry  for  me,  Katie.     It  really  doesn't  hurt  now." 

"  Hush  !"  Kate  broke  in,  holding  up  her  finger. 

There  was  a  sound  of  wheels  not  far  off;  and,  leaving 
go  of  Madge,  she  ran  to  the  nearest  opening  in  the  lane, 
and  saw  to  her  great  joy  a  light  cart  coming  along  the 
road,  and  driven  by  a  man  wiiose  face  she  fancied  was 
familiar  to  iier.  She  was  right.  He  lived  at  Combe 
Regis,  had  been  sent  with  a  load  of  grain  to  Greybridge 
that  morning,  and  was  returning  now  with  the  emj)ty 
sacks. 

"Eh,  zure  he'd  be  roight  glad  to  take  t'  young  missus 


198 


PRETTY  MISS  BIlLLEU". 


home  wi'  un  if  her  foot  wur  hurted.  Her  could  sit  on 
t'  sacks,  an'  ride  hke  a  queen  fur  zure." 

Kate,  looking  into  the  weather-beaten,  kindly  old  face, 
with  its  fringe  of  whitish-gray  hair  hanging  round  it 
under  the  battered  straw  hat,  thought  so  too ;  and 
Madge  was  delighted.  To  ride  in  a  cart,  albeit  destitute 
of  sji^igs,  was  too  delightful  a  sequel  to  her  adventure 
to  .^e^  rejected  by  the  little  Londoner;  and  she  was 
sp^dily  seated  on  a'  throne  of  sacks,  with  her  foot  well 
•supported,  and  begging  Kate  to  assume  a  seat  beside  her. 
But  Kate  shook  her  head. 

"  No,  thank  you  !  You  may  think  an  hour's  ride  in  a 
cart  along  a  dusty  road  Paradise — " 

"It's  a  great  deal  nicer  than  a  stupid  cab  or  carriage, 
I'm  sure,"  interrupted  Madge.  "How  envious  Flo  de 
Ponsonby  will  be !  She's  never  ridden  in  a  cart  in  all 
her  life.     Pll  write  and  tell  her  about  it  to-night." 

"All  right,  so  you  don't  ask  me  to  make  another 
theme  for  envy.  I  shall  be  home  before  you,  if  I  go  by 
the  lanes,  and  shall  have  hunted  out  the  arnica  from 
whatever  box  it's  in,"  said  Kate.  "Are  you  sure  you 
are  comfortable,  and  that  your  foot  doesn't  hurt  now?" 

And  on  receiving  a  hearty  assent  to  both  questions, 
the  elder  girl  nodded  a  smiling  farewell,  and  turned  back 
into  the  lane  to  take  the  short  cut  home. 

It  was  much  pleasanter  walking  there'  than  along  the 
broad  high  road,  three  inches  deep  in  dust,  and  bordered 
by  interminable  straight  hedge-rcAvs,  also  as  white  as  a 
miller's  boy  with  the  same  gritty  impalpable  substance; 
much  pleasanter  to  wend  along  deep  winding  lanes,  with 
tall  trees  just  putting  out  their  leaves  in  a  green  arch 
overhead,  and  high  hawthorns  budded  over  with  rosy 
white  bloom,  tangled  blackberry  bushes,  and  nests  of  pur- 
ple and  white  violets  sending  out  sweet  fragrance  from 
their  covert  of  dark  sheltering  leaves  on  either  side;  to 
climb  over  a  stile  here,  and  cross  a  meadow — the  velvety 
grass  all  gemmed  with  golden  cowslips — there;  or  pick 
up  her  petticoats,  and  spring  daintily  from  stepping- 
stone  to  stepping-stone  across  a  narrow  foaming  stream. 
In  performing  the  latter  feat  she  sent  a  stone  splashing 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEIV.  199 

into  the  water,  and  uttered  a  little  cry,  which  apparently 
startled  some  one  near,  for  there  was  a  sudden  rustling  of 
garments,  and  a  face  strangely  beautiful,  but  pale  and 
nervous,  rose  up  from  behind  a  tree,  where  its  owner  had 
been  sitting,  and  glanced  with  a  frightened,  anxious  ex- 
pression at  Kate.  It  was  a  lady,  tall  and  painfully  deli- 
cate-looking, dressed  in  white  of  some  thick  material, 
with  a  black  lace  scarf  knotted  round  her  throat,  and  a 
quantity  of  light  golden  hair  coiled  very  loosely  at  the 
back  oMier  head,  from  which  the  scarf  had  fallen.  She 
had  risai  from  a  little  camp-stool  set  under  the  shelter  of 
the  trees,  letting  fall  in  the  act  a  whole  lapful  of  paints 
and  brushes  which,  in  conjunction  with  an  easel  support- 
ing a  half-finished  picture,  showed  what  her  occupation 
had  been. 

•'  I  am  afraid  I  startled  you,"  said  Kate,  coming  forward 
with  ready  courtesy  to  assist  in  picking  up  the  scattered 
tubes  of  color.  "I  slipped  in  crossing  the  brook,  and 
after  having  had  one  accident  to-day — but  how — how 
lovely !  I  beg  your  pardon,  but  are  you  "Really  doing 
this?" 

"  13o  you  think  I  have  got  the  effect  J" ",  said  the  lady, 
smiling.  She  had  recovered  her  composure  now,  for  the 
hectic  spot  of  red  in  either  cheek  which  had  succeeded  her 
late  pallor  looked  more  like  latent  fever  than  recent  agi- 
tation. There  was  a  litde  look  of  amusement  in  her  eyes 
as  Kate  made  that  ecstatic  bound  towards  the  picture, 
and  bent  over  it  with  clasped  hands  and  eager  eyes,  as  if 
she  were  devouring  it.  M'Kenzie  might  well  say  that 
Miss  Bellcw  had  a  most  thorough  appreciation  for  art. 

"It  does  not  last  long,"  she  added,  "but  I  thought  the 
sunlight  on  the  under  side  of  those  leaves  made  too  beau- 
tiful an  effect  to  be  lost." 

Kate  looked  where  she  pointed,  and  owned  it  was 
beautiful.  They  were  standing  at  the  entrance  to  a  steep 
narrow  lane,  bordered  on  one  side  by  a  row  of  large  elms 
in  full  leaf  The  sun  was  setting,  and  these  trees  stood 
up  in  the  foreground  above  the  sinking  orb,  green  above 
and  gold  below.  Every  tender  transparent  leaf  was  lined 
with  gold.     There  were  golden  splashes  on  the  gra}-  mossy 


200  PRETTY  MISS  BELLEIV. 

trunks,  broken  glints  and  specks  and  drops  of  gold  fleck- 
ing the  whole  dim  avenue  with  glittering  touches.  In 
the  western  sky  the  sun,  like  a  huge  globe  of  fire,  was 
descending  through  a  bath  of  liquid  glory  from  a  sky  all 
tender  opaline  tints  of  rose  and  cream,  and  threw  a  re- 
flected blush  of  deep  pink  on  the  palings  of  Datherly 
Park  in  the  east,  behind  which  a  thick  belt  of  dark,  im- 
penetrable, gray-green  foliage  stood  up  in  sombre  con- 
trast to  the  ethereal  glow  above. 

The  artist's  picture  was  as  yet  only  roughly  sketched 
in  with  color;  but  it  was  sufficient  to  show  the  general 
effect,  and  give  a  fair  idea  of  how  excellent  the  finished 
work  would  be. 

"  I  envy  you,"  said  Kate,  in  her  abrupt  way,  as  she 
turned  again  from  the  scene  to  the  picture.  "  I  would 
give — oh !  everything  in  the  world  to  know  how  to  paint 
even  half  as  well  as  this,  and  I  cannot  even  daub.  I 
have  taken  lots  of  drawing  lessons,  and  I've  learned  to 
draw  triangles,  and  wheelbarrows,  and  logs  of  wood ; 
and  you  can't  tell  one  from  another  when  they're  done. 
I  do  envy  you  ! " 

There  was  no  preventing  a  smile  at  the  ludicrously  dis- 
mal tone  in  which  this  was  said,  or  rather  jerked  out,  as 
much  to  herself  as  to  the  artist;  and  the  latter's  thin,  sad  face 
lightened  up  in  a  little  amused  laugh.  It  sobered  down 
again  almost  immediately,  and  she  said  very  gravely  : 

"  Do  not  begin  to  envy  me  because  i  can  make  a 
sketch  which  you  cannot.  Perhaps  you  have  a  hundred 
better  gifts  for  this  one  little  talent  of  mine." 

"Indeed  I  have  not,"  said  Kate.  "You  mean  talents 
too,  I  suppose,  but  you  are  wrong.  I  can  sing  a  little,  and 
— and  I  can  Avrite  poetry,  and  that  is  all  I  can  do." 

[And  that  "all"  was  incorrect.  Kate  could  sing  very 
well,  and  she  could  not  write  poetry  at  all,  but  only  very 
bad  rhymes;  but  that  is  a  nicety  of  distinction  which 
young  women — and  men  too — do  not  in  general  seem 
capable  of  comprehending. — Author.] 

"  I  think  that  singing  is  even  a  more  pleasurable  gift 
than  painting,"  said  the  lady.  She  was  going  on  with 
her  picture  again  now,  and  seemed   to  speak  more  from 


rRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 


201 


kindness  than  a  desire  to  prolong  the  conversation. 
"It  is  less  disappointing;  and  if  you  can  sing  your  own 
poetry —  But,"  she  added,  breaking  off  suddenly  with  the 
same  nervous  look  she  had  worn  before,  "you  spoke  of 
an  accident.  You  have  not  been  riding,  I  see.  Do  you 
belong  to  a  party,  and — " 

"No;  1  am, alone,"  said  Kate,  wondering  a  little  at  the 
look  of  relief  which  greeted  this  intelligence,  "and  the 
accident  happened  to  my  sister.  She  hurt  her  foot,  and 
has  had  to  be  taken  home  in  a  cart." 

"  But  there  is  no  way  for  a  cart  doAvn  here,"  said  the 
stranger,  glancing  back  at  the  stream.  "  It  is  only  a 
footway.  Indeed,  I  thought  people  very  seldom  came  by 
it.     They  told  me  so  at  the  farm." 

"  And  I  should  think  they  were  right,"  answered  Kate. 
"  We  did  not  meet  a  soul  when  we  went  to  Greybridge  this 
morning.  No-;  Madge  has  had  to  go  home  by  the  road  ; 
and  tliat  is  why  I  am  glad  to  rest" — she  had  sat  down 
on  the  roots  of  the  tree — "for  it  is  such   a  lone:  w;: 


fc) 


round,  and  the  horse  looked  so  stiff  and  old,  I  am  sure  it 
will  be  a  good  hour  before  they  get  to  Combe  Regis." 

"  You  live  at  Combe  Regis  ?  "  said  the  artist,  painting 
away  busily. 

"We  are  lodging  there — my  brother,  and  my  two  little 
sisters,  and  I.  Do  you  know  it?  It  is  the  quaintest 
little  village." 

"  No  ;  I  have  heard  the  name,  but — "  There  was  an 
anxious  look  in  her  face,  as  if  she  were  trying  to  think 
where.  She  added  abruptly,  "  I  had  no  idea  it  was  near. 
Is  it?" 

"About  two  miles  off  only.  Vou  should  come  over 
there.  You  have  no  idea  what  lovely  sketches  you  would 
find  down  by  the  beach,  and  it  is  a  very  pretty  walk  this 
way." 

The  stranger  shook  her  head. 

"I  am  not  strong  enough  to  try  it,"  she  said,  very  de- 
cidedly. "  I  have  been  ill,  and  am  only  here  for  perfect 
rest  and  quiet,  and  freedom  from  strangers." 

It  was  not  a  very  courteous  speech,  but  Kate  was  too 
taken   up  with   the  pale,  beautiful   face,   and  soft,   sweet 


202  PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 

voice,  to  hear  the  innuendo.  Had  she  done  so,  she  could 
not  possibly  have  taken  it  as  intended  for  her.  Was  not 
every  one  always  glad  to  see  her  ?  A  lonely  artist  invalid 
could  never  wish  to  drive  away  a  young  woman  whom 
most  people  delighted  to  seek  out ! 

"I  suppose  you  are  living  at  the  farm  there,  then?" 
she  said,  compassionately,  and  pointing  to  ^  cluster  of  dark 
red  chimneys  just  visible  above  a  bend  in  the  lane.  "  But 
how  dull  it  must  be  for  you  if  you  are  ill !  I  hope  you 
have  plenty  of  books,  and  \\\2.\.  you  are  not  alone." 

"Yes;  I  am  alone,"  said  the  lady;  "but  I  have  plenty 
of  books — at  least,  for  the  present ;  and  1  do  not  care 
about  society." 

This  was  plainer,  and  Kate  felt  hurt.  Yet  surely  those 
sweet  blue  eyes  could  not  mean  to  look  cold. 

"Then  I  suppose  you  would  not  care  to  see  us,"  she 
said,  in  a  rather  offended  tone,  and  getting  up  as  she 
spoke.  "  I  was  going  to  have  asked  you  to  come  over  to 
see  us  when  you  felt  stronger;  or —  But  perhaps  you 
would  rather  not." 

"Yes,  I  would  rather  not,"  said  the  lady,  quietly. 
"  But  I  thank  you  very  much  for  your  kindness  in  think- 
ing of  it.  I  am  not  strong  enough  for  visiting,  or  receiv- 
ing visitors,"  she  added,  in  a  firmer  tone. 

Kate  was  thoroughly  affronted. 

"Good  afternoon,"  she  said,  flushing  very  much.  "I 
am  sorry  I  interrupted  your  work;"  and  then  she  walked 
off  very  briskly,  and  with  her  head  mightily  erect.  The 
young  lady  had  been  snubbed ! 

The  artist  sat  looking  after  her  with  a  half-sigh,  half- 
smile,  on  her  pale  lips.  "  I  am  afraid  I  was  rude,"  she 
murmured,  "and  it  was  kindly  meant;  but  the  name 
startled  me;  and,  for  anything  I  know,  it  might  be  the 
girl  I  have  so  often  heard  of  Combe  Regis  ? — Yes ; 
that  was  the  place  they  were  going  to;  and  I  had  no 
idea  it  was  within  miles  of  this.  Had  I  better  go 
away,  I  wonder?  But  I  have  so  little  strength,  and  it 
seems  as  if  wherever  I  went  I  stumbled  upon  somebody 
who  knows  me.  Besides,  she  evidently  does  not  know 
me.     She  may  not  be  in  any  way  connected  with  those 


PRE  1  TV  MISS  BELLE  W.  2  o  ^ 

people.  Combe  Regis  may  be  a  favorite  watering-place 
in  these  parts,  though  I  don't  know  of  it.  I  had  better 
stay  here  :  I  must  stay  here  till  I  get  stronger.  The  doc- 
tor said  if  I  did  not  take  perfect  rest  I  should  have  a  ner- 
vous fever;  and  how  dreadful  to  be  laid  up  with  that 
here !  I  do  not  think  she  will  ever  come  near  me  again, 
whoever  she  is"  (and  she  smiled  sadly);  "but  what  a 
pretty,  impetuous  creature  the  girl  was !  It  went  to  my 
heart  to  check  her  cordiality  as  I  did.  There !  the  sun 
has  gone  down  now,  so  I  had  better  put  up  my  paints, 
and  go  home." 

Kate  meanwhile  was  well  on  her  way  to  Combe  Regis. 
She  was  walking  very  quickly,  and  the  red  was  still  high 
in  her  cheeks.  Also  she  breathed  hard,  and  was  alto- 
gether in  a  state  of  lively  indignation,  which  did  not 
begin  to  subside  till  she  was  within  sight  of  the  roofs  and 
chimney-pots  of  the  little  seaside  village. 

"I  never  was  so  treated  before,"  she  said  to  herself. 
"A  total  stranger!  and  when  I  was  so  kindly  talking  to 
her,  and  almost  asking  her  to  come  and  see  us  and  all, 
just  because  she  looked  pretty,  and  delicate,  and  painted 
well.  To  answer  me  so  rudely !  I  wonder  what  Dick 
will  say  when  he  hears." 

And  then  a  doubt  of  what  Dick  zvould  say  when  he 
heard  came  over  Kate's  mind,  and  her  step  slackened, 
and  the  color  softened  in  her  cheek.  Suppose — it  was 
not  a  pleasant  possibility — but  suppose  Dick  were  to 
laugh  at  her,  and  tell  her  she  had  made  a  fool  of  herself. 
He  was  always  teasing  her  for  her  thoughtless,  impulsive 
ways,  and  accusing  her  of  "gushing"  on  some  people, 
and  snubbing  others,  without  due  cause.  Might  he  not 
say  that  in  pressing  an  acquaintance  on  this  stranger  she 
had  gushed*  unwarrantably,  and  been  justly  snubbed  ? 
Perhaps  this  artist  was  some  grand  lady  rusticating  down 
here  in  incognito  (here  came  out  Kate's  romance),  and 
had  taken  her  for  a  presuming  village  girl  (the  pink 
cheeks  grew  red  again  at  the  idea)  ;  or  perhaps  she  was 
the  farmer's  sister,  some  fine  lady's  maid,  home  from  serv- 
ice, and  unwilling  to  betray  her  station  by  making 
acquaintance  with  gentle  people.      No,  that  idea  could 


204  PRETTY  MISS  BELLE W. 

not  be  correct.  Ladies'  maids  did  not  paint  as  this  lady 
painted,  or  speak  in  that  sweet,  high-bred  tone,  or  look 
like  duchesses  for  grace  and  dignity.  The  former  idea 
was  much  more  Ukely  to  be  the  correct  one ;  and  when 
Kate  thought  over  it,  it  was  strengthened  by  a  strange 
sort  of  famiUarity  in  the  face  which  struck  her  all  the 
while  she  was  speaking  to  the  stranger.  It  was  not  a  face 
which  she  knew,  but  one  which  she  had  seen ;  or  perhaps 
it  was  a  strong  resemblance  to  one  she  had  seen.  But 
where?  Ah!  that  was  the  question;  for,  think  as  she 
might,  she  could  not  connect  the  flash  of  memory  with 
any  particular  person  or  place. 

"It  must  have  been  in  the  Row,"  she  said,  at  last — 
"one  of  those  faces  which  pass  one  in  the  carriages,  and 
grow  familiar  without  one  even  being  aware  of  it.  Well, 
she  might  have  been  more  civil.  I  don't  think  I  zmllsdcy 
anything  about  her;  Dick  would  be  sure  to  laugh  at  me; 
and  I'm  not  certain  he  wouldn't  be  right." 

And  then  Kate  put  the  stranger  out  of  her  mind,  and 
hurried  home  briskly,  for  there  was  the  cart  standing  at 
the  door.  It  was  not  till  night  time,  when  the  girls  were 
going  to  bed,  that  Madge  exclaimed : 

"  Why,  Kate — where  is  your  other  earring  ?  You've 
only  one  in." 

Kate  put  up  her  hand  with  a  quick  gesture,  and  uttered 
a  corresponding  cry  of  annoyance. 

"It  must  have  dropped  out,"  she  said.  "  When  did  I 
feel  it  last  ?  Oh !  just  after  crossing  that  brook.  It 
caught  in  my  ruffle,  and  I  twitched  it  away.  Good  gra- 
cious !     I  hope  it  didn't  drop  among  the  grass  there." 


CHAPTER  XX. 

MRS.  GREY  AGAIN. 

IT  certainly  was  not  in  the  cottage,  for  Kate  searched  for 
it  both  that  evening  and  in  the  morning ;  and  the  more 
she  thought  of  it,  the  more  the  conviction  grew  upon  her 
that  it  must  have  dropped  out  either  when  she  gave  it 
that  hasty  twitch,  or  when  she  was  stooping  to  pick  up  the 
artist's  paints.  In  that  case,  she  would  have  to  go  back 
for  it ;  and  the  idea  was  not  pleasant,  more  especially  as 
Dick  had  started  off  for  a  day's  fishing;  Madge's  foot, 
though  better,  was  not  up  to  any  great  exertion;  and 
Dottie  was  too  little  for  so  long  a  walk. 

"I  must  go  alone,"  Kate  thought,  with  a  little  "moue" 
of  disgust,  "for  I  don't  want  to  lose  it — such  a  pretty 
one ;  and  poor  papa's  last  present,  too ;  but  I  do  hope 
and  trust  she  won't  be  there  again." 

She  was  not.  When  Kate  got  near  the  spot,  she 
stopped,  and  cast  a  timid  glance  downward  towards  the 
little  knot  of  trees,  and  the  glimmer  of  foaming  water, 
beside  which  she  had  encountered  the  artist  on  the  pre- 
vious day.  There  did  not  seem  to  be  any  one  there,  or 
near  tliere,  at  present ;  and,  much  reassured,  Kate  de- 
scended to  the  spot,  and  began  searching  for  her  lost 
trinket  among  the  weeds  and  grasses  where  she  had  stood. 
It  was  not  there;  and  after  a  search  of  at  least  ten  min- 
utes, she  was  just  rising  to  go  home  without  her  earring, 
when  there  was  a  quick  step  behind  her,  and  a  voice, 
weak  and  breathless  from  haste,  said : 

"  Are  you  looking  for  this  ?  I  found  it  after  you  were 
gone  yesterday." 

205 


2o6  PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 

Kate  turned  round  sharply,  and  found  herself  face  to 
face  with  her  uncourteous  friend  of  the  previous  day,  but 
looking  far  more  ill  than  then,  the  lips  almost  colorless, 
and  dark  lines  round  the  beautiful  blue  eyes.  Her  voice 
was  almost  gone  from  weakness,  as  she  added  : 

"  I  saw  you  from  a  distance,  and  ran.  I  was  afraid  you 
would  be  gone  before — " 

She  stopped  to  pant ;  and  Kate  felt  her  righteous  anger 
melting  away  in  pity. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said,  trying  to  speak  coldly.  "I  am 
sorry  you  had  the  trouble  to  come  after  me  with  it.  I 
only  missed  it  last  night."  And  then  she  put  out  her 
hand  for  the  little  pearl  earring,  adding,  as  she  took  it, 
"  Oh,  what  a  pity !  one  of  the  drops  is  gone." 

"  Surely  not.  They  were  all  there  when  I  picked  it  up," 
'said  the  lady;  then,  after  a  moment's  pause  to  examine 
it,  "Ah!  it  has  come  unhooked,  I  see.  Very  likely  it  is 
lying  on  my  table  now ;  for  I  picked  it  up  in  a  hurry  as  I 
started.  If  you  do  not  mind  waiting  a  moment,  I  will 
go  back  and  fetch  it  for  you." 

"  I  am  very  sorry  to  trouble  you,"  said  Kate.  "Please 
let  me  go  with  you — that  is,  if  you  do  not  mind,"  her  face 
flushing,  and  her  voice  unconsciously  altering. 

The  invalid  looked  at  her,  first  keenly,  then  smiling. 
There  was  something  in  those  candid  brown  eyes — in  the 
petulant  curve  of  the  sweet  childlike  mouth — in  every 
line  and  dimple  of  Kate's  frank  fair  face,  which  invited 
confidence  and  rebuked  distrust.  With  an  involuntary 
impulse  for  which  she  could  not  account  even  to  herself, 
the  stranger  put  out  her  thin  white  hand,  and  answered: 
"  1  would  gladly  take  more  trouble  for  you ;  for  I  am 
afraid  I  was  very  rude  to  you  yesterday.  Will  you  for- 
give me?" 

It  was  said  so  sweetly,  and  with  such  a  look  at  once 
dignified  and  pleading,  that  Kate  could  not  resist  taking 
the  offered  hand  in  her  little  plump  pink-tipped  fingers, 
and  pressing  it  cordially. 

"Do  not  speak  of  it,"  she  said.  "You — that  is,  I  had 
no  right  to — " 

"To  speak  kindly  to  a  lonely  stranger,"  put  in  the  lady, 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 


207 


by  way  of  assisting  her  confusion.  "But  I  think  it  was 
very  good  and  amiable  of  you ;  and  I  have  been  think- 
ing so  ever  since  I  drove  you  away  so  ungraciously  ;  but 
I  have  been  so  ill  lately — I  am  so  out  of  health  now — 
and  crushed  by  troubles  of  one  sort  and  another,  that  I 
dread  the  very  sight  of  mankind  about  me." 

"But  I  am  not  mankind,"  said  Kate,  laughing. 

She  was  quite  appeased  now. 

"  No,  but — forgive  me — young  ladies  generally  bring 
mankind  in  their  train — fathers,  brothers,  lovers  and 
friends ;  and  though  I  am  indeed  so  lonely  that  the  sight 
of  your  face  is  very  grateful  to  me,  I  could  not  bear  to 
be  brought  into  contact  with — " 

"  My  train  ?  "  laughed  Kate,  very  merrily  ;  "  but  indeed 
you  are  wrong.  1  am  quite  a  stranger  down  here,  taking 
care  of  my  two  little  sisters ;  and  though  I  have  one 
brother  with  me  (the  dearest  fellow),  I  will  not  even  tell 
him  about  you  unless  you  like." 

"Then  you  have  not  done  so  already?"  said  the  lady, 
a  look  of  almost  grateful  relief  in  her  face. 

Kate  laughed  again,  and  blushed  into  the  bargain. 

"  No,  because — well,"  in  her  impetuously  truthful  way, 
"because  I  was  afraid  I  had  made  a  fool  of  myself,  and 
I  thought  Dick  would  tell  me  so;  so  f  said  nothing  to  any 
of  them.     Would  you  like  me  not  to  do  so  now  ?" 

"You  are  so  honest,"  said  the  lady,  smiling.  "Do  you 
mind  my  being  honest  too,  and  saying,  'Yes'?" 

They  were  at  the  gate  leading  to  the  farm,  and  the  lady 
stopped  and  leaned  upon  it,  to  gather  breath  before  going 
further.  Kate  offeretl  her  her  arm,  and  was  shocked  to 
feel  how  the  thin  wrist  trembled  upon  it ;  and  how 
the  hand  burned,  as  if  with  inward  fever.  Neither 
spoke  till  they  stood  in  the  tiny  sitting-room  which  the 
stranger  tenanted,  and  then  it  was  Kate  who  pulled  for- 
ward a  chair  for  its  owner,  and  said,  anxiously  : 

"  I  am  afraid  you  are  very  ill.  Let  me  get  you  a  glass 
of  water,  or  something,"  and  suiting  the  action  to  the 
word,  she  hastily  poured  some  water  from  a  decanter 
standing  on  the  table  into  a  glass,  and  brought  it  to  the 
invalid,  who  drank  it  eagedy,  and  then  thanked  her  both 
with  eyes  and  words. 


2  o8  PKE  TTY  MISS  BELLE  W. 

"  How  very  kind  you  are!  But  now  that  you  see  how 
much  strength  I  have,  you  will  not  wonder  at  my  shun- 
ning anything  which  can  diminish  it,  and  perhaps  lay  me 
up  altogether.  You  do  not  know  what  it  is  to  be  very, 
very  ill  among  strangers,  and  have  no  one  who  cares  for 
you,  nor  no  one  you  care  for,  near  to  speak  a  word  of 
sympathy  or  comfort." 

"  No,"  said  Kate,  shivering  at  the  mere  idea.  "  I  have 
never  been  alone  anywhere  in  all  my  life.  We  are  a  large 
family  at  home,  and  mamma  spoils  us  all.  I  am  the  most 
spoiled,  however,  because  Dick  (that's  my  eldest  brother) 
spoils  me  too,  and  1  think  I  spoil  myself.  I  always  ex- 
pect to  have  my  own  way  in  everything,  and  Eve  often 
says  I'm  frightfully  selfish,  because  I  always  do  what 
pleases  me  first,  without  thinking  whether  it  is  pleasant  to 
others.  You  saw  that  exemplified  yesterday  ; "  and  Kate 
laughed  at  herself  now.  The  stranger  looked  at  her  very 
kindly. 

"  I  think  you  would  find  it  difficult  to  ^/Vplease  any 
one,"  she  said.     "  Is  Eve  one  of  your  sisters  ?" 

"Yes;  the  next  to  me;  but  a  boy  comes  in  between. 
She  is  only  fifteen,  and  very  ill  just  now,  poor  darling! 
with  scarlet  fever.  That  is  why  we  are  down  here. 
Mamma  sent  us  away  lest  we  should  catch  the  infection, 
though  I  would  much  rather  have  stayed  to  nurse  her.  I 
tease  poor  Evey  awfully  about  being  cold  and  prim,  but 
she's  a  million  times  better  than  I  am,  and  never  gets  into 
scrapes." 

Kate  was  not  looking  at  her  hostess,  or  she  would  have 
seen  a  change  come  over  her  face.  The  hectic  spot  was 
glowing  in  either  cheek  again,  and  there  was  a  feverish 
brightness  in  her  eyes,  a  forced  quietness  in  her  voice,  as 
she  said : 

"You  have  not  told  me  your  name,  yet." 

"Bellew,"  said  Kate — "Kate  Bellew;  at  least  I  was 
christened  Katherine,  but  every  one  calls  me  Kate.  My 
mother  is  Lady  Margaret  Bellew,  and  we  live  in  London." 

"I  know — at  least,  I  mean  I  have  heard  the  name." 

There  was  something  faint  and  peculiar  in  the  voice 
now,  and  Kate  looked  up  curiously. 


\ 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW.  209 

"  Do  you  live  in  London  also  ?  "  she  said.  "Your  face 
is  so  familiar  to  me  that  the  more  I  look  at  it,  the  more  I 
feel  I  must  have  seen  it  somewhere.  Was  it  in  the  Row 
or — stay  !  I  have  a  dim  idea — was  it  not  at  one  of  Lady 
Vanborough's  receptions  ?  " 

"I  have  been  in  London,"  said  the  lady,  quietly — the 
expression  of  her  face  had  changed.  The  lips  were  set 
firmly,  and  there  was  a  sort  of  pathetic  defiance  in  the 
eyes — "  but  I  do  not  think  I  have  ever  met  you  at  the 
Row,  or  receptions.  Are  you  sure  it  is  I  of  whom  you 
are  thinking,  and  not  of  a  relative  of  mine?" 

Kate  looked  puzzled. 

"  I  have  seen  some  one  like  you,"  she  said,  "  and 
yet — " 

"  If  it  was  at  Lady  Vanborough's,  I  think  it  must  be 
Mrs.  Grey  you  mean,"  said  the  lady,  coldly.  "  I  did  not 
know  she  had  ever  seen  you,  though." 

"  But  I  think  I  saw  her  once.  Yes,  it  must  have  been 
she,"  Kate  cried,  quite  delighted.  "It  was  on  the  stairs, 
and  I  had  only  a  glimpse  of  her;  but  I  saw  the  likeness 
to  you  at  once,  though  I  had  forgotten  all  about  it. 
And  so  she  is  a  relation  of  yours !  How  funny  it  seems  ! 
for  Bee  has  spoken  so  much  of  her;  and  I  have  taken 
quite  an  interest  in  her  myself" 

"Indeed!  Why!  She  is  only  Lady  Vanborough's 
companion,"  said  the  invalid,  still  coldly. 

"  But  Lady  Vanborough  praises  her  so  much,  and — 
that  is  not  my  reason,  however,  for  caring  about  her," 
said  Kate,  honestly,  "but  because  a  gentleman,  a  great 
friend  of  my  brother's,  is  in  love  with  her,  and  being  in 
love  makes  him  so  dreadfully  disagreeable,  that  I  have 
been  wishing  she  would  marry  him.  There  comes  out 
my  selfishness,  you  see,"  added  Kate,  laughing;  "but -if 
you  knew  how  unpleasant  it  is  to  have  your  friends 
always  snapping  at  you  because  another  woman  is  un- 
kind to  them !" 

The  invalid  smiled,  but  in  rather  a  chilly  manner 
still. 

"  I  think  I  have  heard  Mrs.  Grey  speak  of  something 
of  the  sort,"  she  said,  slowly;  "but  I  thought  the  gentle- 
14 


2 1  o  PRi^  TT  V  M/SS  BELLE  W. 

man  lived  in  the  country,  far  from  London.  How  can 
his  snapping  worry  you  ?" 

"Ah,  you  mean  Mr.  Phihp  CHve!"  cried  Kate.  "Yes, 
Bee  told  me  he  was  in  love  with  her  too ;  but  I  mean  his 
brother  Bernard,  who  lives  in  London,  and — dear  me ! 
though,  I  have  no  right  to  be  talking  about  him  or  the 
lady  this  way.  It  is  very  wrong  of  me.  What  a  pity 
I  can't  think  before  \  speak  ! "  and  poor  Kate,  who  had 
been  chattering  away  in  her  usual  impulsive  manner, 
checked  herself  abruptly,  and  almost  bit  her  lips  with 
vexation.  The  invalid  put  out  a  hand,  and  stroked  hers 
gently. 

"  Do  not  mind.  It  is  a  dangerous  habit,  though,  and 
you  will  do  well  to  check  it ;  but  in  this  case  you  are 
quite  safe,  for,  as  I  tell  you,  I  see  no  one,  and  I  will  be 
very  careful  never  to  repeat  a  word  you  have  said." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Kate,  dolefully;  "but  that  doesn't 
make  it  less  bad  of  me.  Still,  as  you  knew  of  it,  it  does 
not  so  much  matter;  and  I  v/ish  you  would  advise  your 
relation  not  to  keep  Mr.  Clive  in  suspense  much  longer, 
for  really,  you  know,  it  is  very  trying  to  a  man's  temper;" 
and  Kate  nodded  her  head  as  sagaciously  as  though  she 
were  the  mother  of  a  dozen  sons. 

"  I  am  afraid  my  wishes  and  Mrs.  Grey's  opinions  are 
too  different  for  me  to  advise  her,"  said  the  invalid,  gen- 
tly; "but  are  you  sure  Mr.  Clive  has  told  her  that  he — 
what  you  told  me  ?  " 

Kate  owned  she  was  not  sure,  but  said  that  she  had 
taken  it  for  granted. 

"I  think  you  are  mistaken,"  her  friend  answered, 
gravely.  "  It  is  to  be  hoped  so  ;  though,  indeed,  it  is  to 
be  hoped  that  you  are  mistaken  altogether ;  for  were  you 
right,  I  know  that  Mrs.  Grey  would  never  give  him  the 
answer  he  would  wish.  She  does  not  intend  to  marry 
again." 

"She  may  change  her  mind,"  said  Kate.  "Ladies 
often  do.     I'm  always  changing  mine." 

"You  are  a  very  young  girl,  and  Mrs.  Grey  is  a  woman 
past  thirty  in  years  alone,  and  nearer  fifty  in  everything 
else,"  answered  the  invalid.     "  Besides,  in  this  case  she 


PRE TTY  MISS  BELLE  IV.  211 

has  no  temptation  to  do  so,  for  she  feels  nothing  beyond 
the  simplest  liking,  which  you  might  have,  for  either  of 
the  people  you  have  spoken  of" 

"  If  she  doesn't  like  Mr.  Clive  more  than  I  do ! "  cried 
Kate,  lifting  her  eyebrows  and  clasping  her  hands  with 
an  emphasis  which  said  far  more  than  the  words — "  But 
there !  1  am  forgetting  again.  I  can't  think  what  is  the 
matter  with  me  to-day,  or  whether  it  is  something  in  you 
which  makes  me  inclined  to  chatter  at  this  rate.  Do  you 
know,  I  have  said  more  uncharitable  and  mischievous 
gossiping  things  to-day  than  I  usually  say  in  a  week.  If 
I  were  a  Roman  Catholic,  I  would  rush  right  off  and  con- 
fess them,  and  be  penitent  while  I'm  going  through  the 
horrid  list.     What  a  pity  one  can't!" 

"  Don't  you  think  it  is  equally  good  to  remember  and 
feel  penitent  for  them  when  you  are  by  yourself?"  asked 
the  other,  smiling,  as  she  took  Kate's  hand. 

"Well,  no,"  said  Kate,  "because,  you  see,  unfortu- 
nately, as  I'm  not  obliged  to  confess  them,  I  forget  to  re- 
member them,  and  to  be  penitent  for  them  too.  Good- 
bye. May  I  come  and  see  you  again  when  the  picture 
is  finished  ?  " 

"  You  may  come  whenever  you  like,  or  whenever  you 
are  good  enough,"  the  invalid  answered,  heartily. 

"And  I  suppose  I  may  not  bring  my  sisters?  I  don't 
think  you  are  strong  enough  for  !NIadge.  She  is  noisier 
than  I  am,  and  if  she  fell  in  love  with  you  she  would 
certainly  bring  Dick  to  share  it;  but  if  little  Dottie  could 
walk  so  far — " 

"I  should  like  to  see  her  very  much,"  answered  the  in- 
valid; and  then  Kate  shook  hands  and  departed.  It 
was  not  until  she  had  left  the  lane  behind,  and  climbed 
half-way  up  the  hill,  that  she  remembered  she  did  not 
even  know  her  new  friend's  name. 

She  had  forgotton  to  ask  it,  and  the  other  had,  perhaps, 
forgotten  to  tell  it;  but,  indeed,  the  more  Kate  thought 
of  her  visit,  the  more  she  realized  how  very  communica- 
tive she  had  been,  and  how  very  limited  were  the  com- 
munications she  had  received  in  return.  She  had  prattled 
away  about  everyliiing — herself,  her  sisters*  names   and 


2 1 2  PRETTY  MISS  BELLE W. 

characters  and  station,  about  Lady  Vanborougli  and  Mr. 
Clive,  and,  worst  of  all,  the  stranger's  own  relation,  Lady 
Vanborough's  companion  ;  and  in  return  the  stranger  had 
— listened  to  her !  It  was  rather  mortifying,  but  Kate 
could  not  remember  a  single  item  of  information  which 
she  had  gathered  from  the  invalid,  save  and  excepting 
the  fact  that  she  was  related  to  Mrs.  Grey.  "  Which  I 
might  have  guessed  by  the  likeness,"  thought  Miss  Bellew, 
with  a  renewed  perception  of  that  unpleasant  sensation ; 
"I  have  made  a  fool  of  myself  I  declare  I  ought  to  be 
put  into  a  convent  for  perpetual  silence  and  meditation 
for  a  year,  just  to  teach  me  to  hold  my  tongue.  Well, 
never  mind ;  next  time  I  will  ask  questions  and  nothing 
more.  I  don't  think  she  would  repeat  anything  I  said 
to-day.  She  looks  too  perfect  a  lady  to  take  advantage 
of  my  foolishness.  I  wonder  what  she  is,  by  the  way, 
and  who  she  is.  She  spoke  of  being  'only  a  companion,' 
rather  scornfully ;  but  she  does  not  give  me  the  idea  of 
being  rich  herself  Perhaps  Mrs.  Grey  is  her  sister,  and 
they  have  lost  all  their  money.  Perhaps  she  is  a  govern- 
ess. Bah !  I  might  go  on  guessing  all  day,  and  never 
come  near  the  truth.  I  will  ask  her  plainly  and  frankly 
next  time  I  see  her;  and  meanwhile,  even  if  I  have  been 
hasty  in  rushing  into  an  acquaintance  with  a  person  I 
know  nothing  about,  and  who  mayn't  be  in  our  set  at  all, 
still  it  can't  do  any  harm  so  long  as  she  doesn't  visit  us, 
and  I  don't  bring  the  others  into  it.  I  must  be 
very  careful  in  what  I  say,  for  she  is  so  lovely  that  I  am 
sure  Dick  would  fall  in  love  with  her  if  he  were  to  see  her ; 
and  then  mamma  might  be  angry  with  me." 

Acting  on  which  wise  resolution,  Kate  merely  answered 
to  Madge's  queries  as  to  what  had  kept  her  so  long,  by 
saying  she  had  been  talking  to  a  poor  sick  woman  at  a 
farm,  and  changed  the  conversation.  The  young  lady 
was  not  fond  of  prevarication  as  a  rule ;  it  made  her  face 
burn. 

In  the  meanwhile  Mrs.  Grey  (for  presupposing  that  I 
have  no  idiots  among  my  readers,  I  see  no  use  in  keeping 
up  a  mystery  as  to  the  identity  of  that  lady  with  the 
lodger  at  the  farm  before  them)   was  battling  with  her 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE W. 


213 


conscience  certain  doubts  wliich  the  interview  with  Kate 
had  evoked.  Thanks  to  Lady  Vanborough's  volubiHty 
of  speech,  Miss  Bellevv  had  told  her  very  little  that  she 
did  not  know  before,  but  that  little  was  of  use  to  her, 
even  as  confirming  Lady  Vanborough  \  and  being  of  use 
to  her,  she,  as  an  honorable  woman,  felt  annoyed  with 
herself  for  having  obtained  it  by  a  deception. 

We  are  apt  to  say  that  women  have  no  ideas  of  honor. 
I  disagree  with  that  theory  in  toto.  Their  perceptions  on 
that  subject,  as  on  most  others,  are  equally  keen  and  far 
more  subtle  than  the  generality  of  ours.  The  only  thing 
is  that,  being  weaker  than  men,  they  sometimes  lack  force 
of  character  enough  to  carry  out  these  perceptions.  This 
is  a  broad  statement,  and  requires  explanation.  Being 
informed  by  my  editor,  however,  that  space  is  valuable, 
and  explanations  are — not,  I  leave  them  to  be  worked  out 
by  yourself,  and  proceed. 

"I  am  afraid  it  was  not  fair,"  thought  Mrs.  Grey;  "and 
yet  if  I  had  said  to  her,  'I  am  Mrs.  Grey,'  she  might 
have  said  just  what  she  did,  or  even  more.  Besides, 
would  that  have  been  any  truer  than  what  I  did  say  ? 
Because  I  have  been  obliged  to  take  a  name  which  is  not 
my  own,  am  I  bound  to  keep  to  it?  Why,  even  if  she 
had  recognized  me  (and  when  she  saw  me  I  cannot 
fancy)  and  had  addressed  me  as  Mrs.  Grey,  I  should  have 
kept  more  strictly  to  the  literal  truth  by  saying,  'That  is 
not  my  name,'  than  by  assenting  to  it.  I  am  not  to  be 
judged  as  other  women — I,  whose  whole  life  is  a  martyr- 
dom to  the  villainy  of  one  man,  and  my  own  vain  efforts 
to  walk  straightly  away  from,  and  in  spite  of,  him.  And 
to  think  that  1  was  once  as  happy  and  innocent  as  that 
l)retty,  talkative  child !  My  God  help  me!  for  at  times 
my  cross  seems  heavier  than  I  can  carry  of  my  own 
strength.  There  seems  to  be  a  fate  against  me  of  late, 
since  go  where  I  may  I  cannot  be  left  alone,  or  spared 
the  notice  of  those  very  people  whom  1  would  most 
avoid." 

And  then  she  covered  up  her  face  with  her  hands  and 
broke  into  silent,  sorrowful  weeping.  A  strong  woman, 
but  broken   both   in   mind  and  health  now  by   troubles 


2 1 4  PRE  TTY  MISS  BELLE  W. 

which,  however  they  might  be  her  own  bringing  in  the 
beginning,  were  in  very  truth  too  heavy  for  one  so  gentle- 
minded  and  gently  reared  to  bear  alone. 

Clive's  last  speech  had  indeed  been  a  fearful  shock  to 
her.  She  had  reasons,  great  and  grave  ones,  for  keeping 
her  past  Hfe  a  sealed  book  to  those  among  whom  she  had 
settled  herself  in  the  present  one.  She  would  fain  have 
buried  and  blotted  it  out  altogether,  since  even  to  think 
of  it  revived  such  a  poignancy  of  anguish,  such  an  agony 
of  shame,  as  nearly  broke  her  heart  again.  And  now  to 
find  that  the  man  whose  obstinate  love  for  her  had  be- 
come more  a  persecution  than  anything  else,  had  carried 
his  search  for  her  so  far  as  to  obtain  a  clue,  God  knew 
how  strong  or  how  slight,  to  that  very  past  from  which 
she  had  escaped,  brought  down  the  long-hoarded  strength 
and  courage  at  a  blow,  and  for  a  few  hours  left  her  too 
crushed  and  helpless  even  for  tears.  On  that  day  when 
she  last  saw  him  she  sat  in  her  own  room  with  her  hands 
clasped  on  her  knees,  and  her  blank  unseeing  eyes  fixed 
on  vacancy,  till  the  setting  sun,  shining  full  upon  her 
white  face  through  the  lower  panes  of  her  window,  roused 
her  to  the  consciousness  of  the  duties  she  had  neglected, 
the  suffering  she  had  to  encounter.  The  duties  had  to  be 
remembered  first;  and  rising  to  her  feet  with  tottering 
limbs  she  rang  the  bell,  and  desired  the  maid  who 
answered  it  to  apologize  to  Lady  Vanborough  for  her  long 
absence,  but  that  she  was  suffering  from  such  a  terrible 
headache  that  she  had  been  quite  unable  to  come  down. 

"Tell  Mrs.  Grey  I  don't  want  her,"  said  Lady  Van- 
borough  in  answer.  "Take  her  up  a  cup  of  strong  tea  at 
once,  and  tell  her  not  to  show  herself  till  her  headache  is 
quite  gone;"  and  then  the  baronet's  widow  laughed  to 
herself,  and  told  herself — which  was  true — that  she  was  a 
very  good-natured  creature.  "Some  lovers' quarrel,  of 
course.  Perhaps  Master  Clive  is  jealous — he  looks  as  if 
he  could  be — and  the  silly  woman  has  been  crying  her 
eyes  out.  Fancy  a  woman  older  than  myself,  if  anything, 
and  such  a  fool !  Why,  1  couldn't  squeeze  out  a  tear  for 
such  a  small  matter  as  the  best  man  ever  born,  to  save 
my  life.      I'm  sure  they're  not  worth  it;    and  that's  why 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE W. 


215 


they  always  ill-use  the  woman  who  makes  most  fuss  about 
them.  I  must  go  up  and  scold  the  silly  creature  before 
she  has  time  to  stiffen  up  into  propriety  again." 

And  accordingly,  while  Mrs.  Grey,  having  drunk  her 
tea,  was  trying  painfully,  with  throbbing  brain  and  aching 
heart,  to  think  what  she  should  do  to  preserve  her  secret 
— whether  she  should  trust  to  Clive's  impartial  friendship 
and,  owning  that  there  was  something  hidden,  implore 
him  to  persuade  his  brother  not  to  pursue  his  discoveries; 
or  whether  she  should  rely  on  Philip's  wounded  pride, 
and  simply  write  him  the  letter  Bernard  had  suggested — 
Lady  Vanborough  came  into  the  room,  told  her  that  she 
looked  like  a  death's  head,  and  that  she  was  an  absurd 
goose  to  make  herself  miserable  about  nothing,  and  ac- 
cused her  of  having  quarreled  with  her  lov^er. 

"  My — I  do  not  understand  you.  Lady  Vanborough," 
Mrs.  Grey  said,  a  look  of  mild  offense  upon  her  face. 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  you  do,"  answered  her  employer,  turn- 
ing her  back  to  the  fire,  gentleman-fashion,  and  putting 
her  hands  under  her  tunic  in  default  of  coat-tails  ;  ''here's 
Bernard  Clive  desperately  in  love  with  you,  and  as  proud 
as  a  peacock  ;  and  here  are  you,  I  haven't  the  least  doubt, 
desperately  in  love  with  him,  and  prouder  than  any  pea- 
hen that  ever  laid  an  egg — which,  by  the  way,  isn't  say- 
ing much,  for  I've  always  thought  peahens  rather  tame- 
spirited  creatures  than  otherwise.  Now,  I  don't  know 
what  you've  been  quarreling  about ;  but  I  suppose  he 
wants  to  get  married — and  very  natural  too.  A  sensible, 
rising  young  man  like  he  is  wants  a  wife,  and  I  don't  see, 
if  he  can  keep  her,  why  he  shouldn't  have  her.  Wliat's 
the  good  of  shilly-shallying?  You'll  have  to  give  in 
sooner  or  later;  and  if  you  care  for  him,  I'd  advise  you 
to  do  it  sooner.  I  know  there  are  plenty  of  wishy-washy 
sort  of  men  who  wouldn't  know  what  to  do  with  their 
own  wills  if  they  were  let  have  'em,  and  who  want  to  be 
ridden  with  a  curb ;  but  Clive's  not  one  of  that  sort. 
He's  gone  out  of  tlie  house  in  a  boiling  passion  nbw  ;  and 
let  me  tell  you,  my  dear,  that  if  you  take  it  out  of  some 
mtn  before  marriage,  they'll  take  it  out  of  you  after- 
wards." 


2 1 6  PRE  TTY  MISS  BELLE  IV. 

"But  I  am  not  going  to  be  married  to  Mr.  Clive," 
said  Mrs.  Grey,  her  pale  face  flushing  painfully.  "  He 
has  been  a  most  kind  friend  to  me,  and  I  like  and 
respect  him ;  but  I  would  no  more  marry  him  than  you 
would." 

"  He  never  paid  me  the  compliment  of  asking  me," 
said  Lady  Vanborough,  drily. 

"Nor  me,"  added  Mrs.  Grey.  "Will  you  believe  me. 
Lady  Vanborough,  when  I  assure  you  such  an  idea  has 
never  crossed  my  mind?  Even  when  you  have  jested 
about  Mr.  Clive  at  times,  I  paid  no  attention,  thinking  it 
was  only  your — " 

"Flippant  manner  of  speech,"  suggested  her  ladyship, 
as  Mrs.  Grey  hesitated.  "Complimentary  to  me,  eh? 
Of  course  I  believe  you,  since  you  say  so,  though  I 
shouldn't  have  thought  you  so  dense;  but  now  you  do 
know  it — " 

"I  think  you  are  mistaken." 

"What!  when  I  got  it  from  him  before  ever  I  saw 
you?"  (It  is  worthy  of  mention  that  Lady  Vanborough 
fully  believed  that  she  had.  Her  imagination  was  vivid, 
and  by  the  time  she  had  put  it  into  words  five  or  six 
times  she  began  to  believe  in  it  as  a  reality.)  She  added 
in  the  same  manner,  "Why,  the  only  wonder  to  me  is, 
you  didn't  know  it.  It  was  only  the  other  day  some 
friend  of  his — who  was  it  ?  Oh,  Kate  Bellew,  to  be 
sure — was  talking  about  it  to  me.  If  that  is  all  your 
fear,  put  it  aside.  Do  you  suppose  people  run  after  and 
devote  themselves  to  women  who  can't  make  them  any 
return,  as  he  does  with  you,  unless  they're  in  love  with 
them  ?  Bah !  my  dear,  the  world's  not  so  unselfish  as 
all  that,  and  you  ought  to  know  it  as  well  as  I." 

Mrs.  Grey  said  nothing  for  a  minute.  Her  head  was 
whirling,  her  pulse  beating  in  quick,  feverish  throbs 
under  this  accumulation  of  trouble  on  trouble  and  per- 
plexity on  perplexity.  When  she  did  look  up,  it  was  to 
say  in  a  tone  of  jiatient  despair : 

"If  this  be  true,  I  have  lost  my  best  friend.  Lady 
Vanborough,  you  have  opened  my  eyes :  will  you  let  me 
leave  you  ?     Had   I   known  this,  I   should  never  have 


PRE  TTY  MISS  BELLE  IV.  217 

taken  this  situation.     Knowing  it,  I  should  be  wrong  in 
keeping  it." 

"That's  nonsense,"  said  her  ladyship.  "You  can't 
help  the  men  falling  in  love  with  you,  unless  you  cut  off 
your  nose,  like  the  nuns  of  Coldinghame.  If  you're 
determined  not  to  marry  the  man,  tell  him  so,  and  have 
done  with  it." 

But  Mrs.  Grey  shook  her  head, 

"  It  would  not  be  right,"  she  repeated ;  and  then  she 
went  up  to  Lady  Vanborough,  both  hands  outstretched 
in  sorrowful  appeal. 

"Oh,  Lady  Vanborough,  let  me  go!"  she  said,  earn- 
estly. "You  are  a  kind-hearted  woman  :  feel  for  me,  who 
am  a  woman  also,  though  a  most  unhappy  one.  I  should 
never  have  come  here  as  your  companion.  I  am  not  fit 
for  it.  Let  me  go  away  now,  before  you  tell  me  so  your- 
self." 

"  Look  here,"  said  Lady  Vanborough.  A  new  idea 
had  flashed  across  her  mind,  and  brought  a  heavy  frown 
across  her  kindly  face.  Her  hands  left  their  gentlemanly 
pose,  and  took  the  other  widow's  in  a  firm  grasp.  "  Tell 
me  the  truth.  A  woman  is  not  to  be  utterly  condemned 
because  she  is  under  a  cloud.  Have  you  any  right  to  the 
title  of  Mrs.  Grey  ?  " 

And  Mrs.  Grey  made  no  answer ;  but  the  face  a  mo- 
ment back  flushed  m  appeal  faded  into  a  dead  whiteness, 
and  the  hanils  Lady  Vanborough  held  had  turned  as  cold 
and  damp  as  stone.  With  one  keen  look  at  her,  her 
ladyship  let  them  go,  and  turned  away. 

"I  will  not  kec])  you  against  your  will,"  she  said,  "nor 
will  I  turn  you  adrift.  To-morrow  I  am  going  away  on 
a  fortnight's  visit  to  some  friends  in  Kent.  You  can 
either  stay  here,  or  go  to  your  friends — as  you  like ;  and 
when  I  return,  if  you  like  to  tell  me  your  story,  I  will  do 
my  best  to  help  you  as  a  friend  can." 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

KATE  TAKES  OFFENSE. 

AT  about  six  o'clock  on  the  day  he  was  expected,  Clive 
arrived  at  Bloom  Cottage,  and  received  a  very  cordial 
welcome  from  Dick,  and  a  sufficiently  friendly  one  from 
Dick's  sister.  He  looked  tired,  and  had  that  pale,  over- 
worked expression  which  people  luxuriating  in  country 
air  and  exercise  recognize  at  once,  and  which  woke  a 
feeling  of  pity  in  Kate's  kindly  little  heart. 

"  I  am  sorry  I  said  anything  against  him,"  she  thought 
to  herself,  with  a  quick  remorseful  twinge.  "  Poor  fellow  ! 
he  looks  quite  ill ;  and  mamma  is  always  so  kind  and 
cordial  to  him.  I  must  take  her  place,  and  try  to  keep 
him  good-tempered.  I  dare  say  he  won't  quarrel  if  I  am 
careful  to  avoid  occasions." 

He  certainly  did  not  seem  inclined  to  do  so.  There 
was  a  sort  of  languor  about  him,  which  appeared  to  dis- 
pose him  to  rest  gratefully  in  the  kindly  welcome  and 
homely  chit-chat  which  surrounded  him  at  the  cottage. 
Kate  quite  wondered  when  she  saw  his  eyes  following  her 
about  the  room,  with  almost  as  pleased  and  pleasant  an 
expression  as  shone  so  often  in  Dallas  M'Ken^ie's.  She 
had  not  thought  those  hard  blue  eyes  could  look  so  soft ; 
and  then  her  mind  went  back  to  Bee  Vanborough's  story ; 
and  the  young  heart,  just  sufficiently  touched  itself  to 
feel  for  others'  romances,  melted  still  more. 

"Why  does  not  that  Mrs.  Grey  marry  him?"  Kate 
asked  herself,  with  a  little  indignation.  "  Bee  must  know 
better  than  that  relation  living  at  a  distance;  and  if  she 
218 


PRE  TTY  MISS  BELLE  W.  219 

does  like  him,  it  is  her  duty  to  say  so  instead  of  holding 
back  and  playing  with  him.  A  woman  has  no  right  to 
use  her  beauty  to  give  pain ;  and  I  would  just  like  to  tell 
her  so,"  added  the  younger  beauty,  with  an  energetic  pat 
of  Dottie's  golden  mane,  as  she  lifted  that  small  lady  into 
her  chair  for  dinner.  She  never  guessed  that  Clive's  gaze 
rested  on  her  in  genuine  pleasure  and  admiration,  un- 
touched by  any  thought  of  other  women.  In  town  he 
did  often  find  fault  with  her ;  and  in  his  eagerness  to  see 
her  perfect,  according  to  his  ideas  of  perfection,  quarreled 
with  her  for  the  thousand  and  one  little  imperfections 
which  made  her  so  irresistibly  charming;  but  to-day  she 
was  perfect,  even  in  his  eyes.  To-day,  watching  her  as 
she  flitted  about  in  her  simple  linen  dress,  with  the  sun- 
light on  her  pretty  hair — now  seeing  after  the  preparations 
for  their  homely  meal,  and  making  most  ludicrous  mis- 
takes in  the  directions  thereof;  now  tying  up  Madge's 
wind-loosened  locks;  and  now  stooping  to  tease  and  fondle 
her  tiny  sister — she  became,  as  it  were,  the  very  embodi- 
ment of  his  own  ideal  of  womanhood,  the  home  sun- 
beam, and  bright  ministering  spirit,  unspoiled  by  tarnish 
of  falsity  or  worldliness,  which  more  men  than  Bernard 
Clive  have  yearned  for  in  their  inmost  spirit. 

Kate  considered  herself  "  frightfully  sunburned,"  and 
was  rather  uneasy  as  to  whether  Uick  might  not  think 
she  should  have  dressed  for  dinner  in  honor  of  his  friend; 
but  to  Clive  the  slight  tinge  of  brown  on  brow  and  cheek 
harmonized  like  the  mellow  glow  of  sunlight  with  the 
dancing  eyes  and  rich-colored  masses  of  wavy  hair;  and 
as  to  the  dress —  Well,  now  I  think  of  it,  it  is  really  a 
little  hard  and  disheartening  for  our  lasses,  that  let  them 
dress  their  finest,  stuff  out  their  hair  over  innumerable 
pads  and  rolls,  and  deck  their  pretty  figures  in  yards  and 
yards  of  satin,  or  pyramids  of  frills  and  flounces,  the  very 
men  for  whom  they  take  all  this  trouble  never  ivill  think 
them  looking  so  well  as  in  a  clean  cotton  gown — neA-er  will 
fancy  any  shape  of  the  head  so  beautiful  as  that  Nature 
has  made  for  it.  It  is  disheartening;  but  oh!  young 
ladies,  it  is  a  most  tender  and  subtle  compliment  to  your 
own  persons.     The  men  may  be  fools,  but   they  prefer 


220  PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 

you  to  your  clothes — voila  tout.'  I  dare  say  Eve's  second 
figleaf  petticoat  was  better  made  than  the  first.  Perhaps 
she  combined  shades  of  green  in  the  third,  and  tried  the 
efifect  of  a  tendril  here  and  a  blossom  there ;  but  I  doubt 
whether  Adam  thought  her  any  more  beautiful  than 
when,  fresh  from  the  hand  of  God,  she  rose  before  him 
on  that  first  spring  morning  in  Paradise ! 

This  is  a  digression.  Excuse  it,  and  allow  me  to  con- 
tinue. 

The  evening  passed  very  pleasantly.  No  business 
was  talked  of  after  all ;  Clive  even  declining,  on  plea  of 
faitigue,  to  go  out  for  a  smoke  with  his  friend  Dick :  and 
at  eight  o'clock  they  were  still  sitting  near  the  uncurtained 
window,  Kate  busy  with  her  crochet,  and  Clive  telling 
her  something  about  Lady  Margaret,  who  seemed  to 
have  been  using  him  as  a  sort  of  adopted  son  during  their 
absence,  when  a  gentleman  passed  along  the  'beach  be- 
low them ;  and  seeing,  by  the  glow  of  lamp  and  firelight, 
Kate's  white  dress  at  the  window,  lifted  his  hat.  Kate 
did  not  see  him — she  was  looking  at  Clive :  but  she 
fairly  started,  his  face  turned  so  dark  with  angry  surprise. 

"  Dick  !  "  he  cried,  sharply,  and  stooping  forward,  "look 
there!  Isn't  that  that  Canadian  fellow — M'Kenzie  ? 
What  business  on  earth  has  he  down  here  ?  " 

It  was  merely  a  hasty  exclamation,  somewhat  imperi- 
ously uttered ;  but  it  fell  like  a  bomb-shell  into  the  little 
family  circle,  a  moment  back  so  happy  and  peaceful ;  and 
Kate's  face  glowed  in  an  instant  with  the  deepest  indig- 
nation, while  George,  who  had  been  lying  on  the  floor, 
trying  to  touch  his  forehead  with  the  tips  of  his  toes,  as 
suddenly  writhed  into  a  kneeling  position,  with  cheeks 
distended  and  eyes  glaring  with  wrath.  Dick  did  not  an- 
swer for  a  second ;  but  his  sister  saved  him  the  trouble  by 
drawing  herself  as  erect  as  if  she  had  literally  and  indeed 
swallowed  the  proverbial  poker;  and,  turning  upon  the 
visitor  with  her  customary  promptitude  : 

"Yes,  Mr.  Clive — that  is  Mr.  M'Kenzie,"  she  said,  her 
clear  tones  resonant  of  unuttered  defiance.  "  Why  should 
not  he  have  business  here  as  well  as  other  people  ? 
Surely  he  has  a  right  to  come  and  go  where  he  likes  with- 
out—" 


PRE  TTY  MISS  BELLE  W.  221 

And  here  Kate  began  to  remember  the  obHgations  of 
courtesy,  and  checked  herself,  sweUing,  hke  a  ridiculous 
young  turkey-cock,  with  the  words  she  longed  to  have 
added. 

Clive  raised  his  eyebrows.  To  speak  the  truth,  he  had 
been  as  much  startled  by  the  effect  of  his  words  as  his 
audience  by  the  words  themselves.  M'Kenzie's  appear- 
ance had  surprised  and  annoyed  him ;  and  he  spoke  on 
the  impulse  of  the  moment,  forgetting  that  Kate  was 
present;  but  to  have  his  words  taken  up  by  her,  and 
flung  back  to  him  with  such  indignant  warmth,  was  a  sign 
to  him  that  he  had  more  warrant  for  annoyance  than  he 
supposed.  It  was  like  a  gust  of  hail  in  your  face  on  a 
warm  summer's  day — like  a  throb  of  sharp  pain  shooting 
across  a  healthy  limb;  and  yet  he  did  not  feel  as  angry 
with  the  actual  hand  which  dealt  it  as  with  the  ideal 
Kate,  who  had  once  again  disappointed  him.  He  pun- 
ished her  by  that  look  of  calm  astonishment  before  turn- 
ing to  Dick  with  : 

"What  has  brought  him  down  here,  did  vou  say,  Bel- 
lew  ? "  " 

"  George,  and  the  bother  he  gave,  I  believe,"  said  Dick, 
trying  to  laugh,  but  looking  rather  embarrassed;  while 
poor  little  Kate  sat  nearly  petrified  with  angry  wonder  at 
being  thus  ignored.  "He  took  George  in,  you  know, 
when  we  came  down  here ;  and — " 

"Took  him  in!  No,  I  didn't  know,"  said  Clive,  look- 
ing more  disturbed  than  before.  "  Wliat  did  he  do  that 
for  ?     I  thought  you  were  all  together  down  here." 

"Really,  Mr.  Clive,"  cried  Kate,  unable  to  hold  her 
tongue,  however  undignified  speech  might  be,  "  I  don't 
mean  to  be  rude,  but  I  tliink  you  can't  be  aware  how  funny 
your  speeches  sound.     Surely  you  do  not  expect  us — " 

"Now,  Kittie,  be  quiet,"  put  in  Dick,  "or  Clive  will 
think  I've  not  been  taking  proper  care  of  you.  He 
doesn't  know  as  well  as  I  what  a  volcano  you  are,  always 
ready  to  go  off  with  a  fizz  about  nothing — nothing  at  all," 
added  the  brother,  nodding  his  head  at  Bernard  as  if  to 
apologize  for  Kate,  or  assure  him  that  there  was  no  spe- 
cial cause  for  her  championship  of  the  absent  Canadian. 


222  ^RF'  TT  V  MISS  BELLE  IV. 

"Well,  Dick,  you  needn't  call  Mr.  M'Kenzie  'nothing,'" 
cried  George,  coining  to  his  sister's  side.  "I'm  sure  he's 
a  regular  trump.  He  came  down  here  on  purpose  to 
please  me.  I  believe  he'd  do  anything  for  me ;  and  he's 
rowed  Kate  out  three  times,  and  carried  Dottie  out  walk- 
ing when  she  was  tired,  and  read  aloud  those  jolly 
Ingol — what's-its-name's  legends  all  yesterday  evening. 
Didn't  he,  Katie  ?  You  know  the  book  I  mean — about 
the  devil  who  'dragged  his  nerveless  tail  all  along  of  the 
Red  Sea  shore;'  and  we  all  like  him  immensely — better 
than  any  one  else  we  know.  You  said  so  to-day,  didn't 
you,  Kate  ?" 

"A  happy  man,"  said  Clive,  with  a  curl  of  his  4ip, 
which  brought  the  red  blood  burning  into  Kate's  cheek. 
"Well,  I  think  I  must  be  saying  good  night.  Dick,  will 
you  smoke  your  cigar  as  far  as  the  inn  with  me  ?" 

This  of  course  meant,  "  Dick,  will  you  come  out  and 
discuss  this  intruder  where  we  can't  be  interrupted  by 
Miss  Bellew  and  George;"  but  though  Kate  so  under- 
stood it,  she  could  offer  no  remonstrance,  and  merely 
clenched  her  little  hands  together  in  impotent  vexation, 
while  Dick  went  to  look  for  his  overcoat. 

Clive  hesitated.  He  was  quite  aware  that  he  had  an- 
gered Kate,  and  that  he  was  going  to  do  so  still  more. 
It  was  his  own  fault ;  and  yet  it  was  for  her  sake,  and  to 
save  her  from  pain ;  only  no  one  but  he  knew  that ;  and 
though  he  piqued  himself  on  not  "spoiling  her  like  the 
rest  of  the  world,"  he  could  not  but  feel  to  the  very  core 
the  change  from  the  bright  soft  cordiality  of  a  few  min- 
utes back  to  the  present  wrathful  coldness.  With  a  wist- 
ful, almost  pleading  look  in  his  eyes,  he  leaned  forward  to 
Kate. 

"Don't  be  angry  with  me,  Miss  Bellew.  I  was  sorry 
to  find  Mr.  M'Kenzie  established  here,  because  I  don't 
think  him  a  very  desirable  friend  for  you  ;  but  I  had  no  in- 
tention of  saying  so  when  I  first  spoke,  and  less  still  of 
offending  you." 

"  Offending  me !  "  repeated  Kate,  too  angry  to  see  the 
appeal  in  Clive's  eyes,  and  still  further  irritated  by  the 
unfortunate  words;  "you  have  only  a  little  surprised  me, 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEVV.  223 

Mr.  Clive.  I  thought  men  were  incapable  of  small  jeal- 
ousies, and  also  that  ladies  with  mothers  and  brothers  to 
take  care  of  them  were  not  expected  to  consult  their 
young  men  acquaintances  as  to  who  were  desirable  friends 
for  them." 

Clive  was  silent  for  a  moment. 

"That  is  a  most  crushing  reprimand,"  he  said,  very 
slowly  and  quiedy ;  "but  provided  that  the  mother  is  far 
away,  and  the  young  man  acquaintance  (not  such  a  very 
young  man  either,  Miss  Bellew)  finds  the  lady  in  perfect 
innocence  adopting  as  a  friend  a  woman  of  doubtful 
character,  or  a  man  of  undesirable  antecedents,  I  think 
most  people  would  absolve  him  of  officious  interference 
were  he  to  give  her  brother  a  word  of  warning  on  the 
subject." 

"Which  is  what  you  would  do  in  such  a  case,  I  sup- 
pose," said  Kate,  half  incredulously. 

"  Which  is  what  I  would  do  in  such  a  case — yes,"  an- 
swered Clive,  coolly. 

"And  on  the  sole  conjecture  that,  because  you  have 
seen  Mr.  M'Kenzie  on  the  beach,  Madge  and  I  must 
have  adopted  him  as  an  intimate  friend  ?  Mind,"  added 
Kate,  stoutly,  "I  do  not  say  we  have  not." 

"I  am  glad  you  don't.  Thank  God,  you  are  as  yet  as 
candid  as  you  are  imprudent  and  unkind,"  cried  Clive, 
losing  self-control  for  one  moment  in  ungovernable  pain  ; 
and  then  he  turned  sharply  away,  and  went  out  just  as 
Dick  called  from  the  cottage  door  to  know  why  he  was 
delaying. 

Madge  and  George  had  taken  themselves  off  in  dis- 
gust ;  but  as  soon  as  Clive  was  gone  they  returned,  to 
find  their  eldest  sister  staring  out  of  the  window  at  the 
broad  expanse  of  moonlit  silvery  sea,  and  giving  vent 
every  now  and  then  to  a  suspicious  little  sniffle. 

"Why,  Kittie,  you're  crying!"  cried  Madge,  taking  a 
look  at  her.  "  ^^■hat's  the  matter  ?  Has  Mr.  Clive  been 
vexing  you  ?  \\'hy,  your  face  is  as  red  as  fire,  and  your 
nose  is  all  swelled — isn't  it,  George  ?  Do  look  at  Kate's 
nose.     What  is  the  matter  ?  " 

"I  wish  you  would  look  at  one  another's  noses,"  said 


2  24  PRETTY  MISS  BELLE Vv^. 

Kate,  petulantly.  "Nothing  is  the  matter,  and  Mr, 
Clive  is  always  vexing  me  and  every  one  else;  I  never 
yet  met  such  a  disagreeable  person." 

"  I  like  Bernard  Clive  generally,"  said  George,  with 
the  ponderous  gravity  of  a  judge — "at  least  I  used  to 
did;  but  I  should  just  have  liked  to  have  punched  his 
head  jolly  well  just  now.  Calling  Dallas  M'Kenzie  a 
'fellow' indeed !  I  should  like  to  know  what  he  is!  I 
say,  Kate,  I'm  hungry." 

"Hungry!  just  at  your  bed-time !"  cried  Kate,  rally- 
ing herself,  and  rather  ashamed  of  having  betrayed  her 
feelings  before  the  children.  "It's  half-past  nine;  and 
to-morrovt^'s  Sunday.  Now,  George,  I  won't  have  you 
going  to  the  cupboard.  There's  only  just  cake  enough 
for  to-morrow,  and  they  won't  bake  another  till  Mon- 
day." 

"Then  they're  pigs — that's  what  they  are.  Only  a 
little  bit,  Katie,  there's  a  darling  angel  I  Just  look  what 
a  cavity  there  is  here" — clasping  his  hands  pathetically 
on  his  stomach — "I  shall  go  into  a  consumption  before 
we  go  home." 

"  A  consumption  of  food,  I  suppose,"  said  Kate,  satir- 
ically, "  Oh !  yes,  I'm  always  a  darling  angel  when  you 
want  to  get  anything  out  of  me.  And  as  to  the  cavity, 
that's  a  cram,  sir,  for  your  heart  is  all  there  and  nowhere 
else." 

"I  wish  it  was  a  cram,"  grumbled  George,  "then  I 
shouldn't  feel  so  empty.     AxQu'tyoii  hungry,  Madge?" 

Madge  nodded,  and  observed  in  a  modest  aside  that 
there  was  plenty  of  the  currant  tart  left.  "You  gave 
such  little  company  bits  at  dinner,  Kate." 

"Why  didn't  you  ask  for  more,  then  ?"  asked  Kate, 
sighing  but  yielding,  and  reaching  her  hand  to  the  bell. 

"  Because  Mr.  Clive  said  you  must  be  tired  of  helping 
so  many.  How  I  do  hate  people  to  say  that  when  one 
hasn't  had  half  enough  !  I  say,  Katie,  do  you  remember 
Eve  thought  he  would  want  to  marry  you  when  he  first 
came ! " 

"Yes,  I  remember,"  said  Kate,  giving  her  head  a  toss 
of  disdain  at  the  idea.     "  Eve  was  out  in  her  guess," 


j'A'/r/yy  A/yss  bellew.  225 

''Oh,  gracious  !  I  hope  you  won't,"  cried  George,  look- 
ing up  from  his  plate  of  pie.  "  Look  here,  Kittie,  why 
don't  you  marry  M'Kenzie?  He's  ever  such  a  much 
better  fellow;  and  then  I'd  come  and  live  with  you,  and 
he  could  teach  me  to  swim ;  and  it's  much  jollier  doing 
my  Latin  with  him  than  with  old  Smith." 

"  What  a  goose  you  are,  George !  "  said  Madge,  while 
Kate  grew  rosy-red  and  bit  her  lips.  "  As  if  Kate  would 
have  you  to  live  with  her  if  she  was  married!  Nurse 
says  it's  a  great  mistake  to  go  and  live  with  young  married 
people ;  for  they  never  like  being  advised,  and  when  they 
have  babies — " 

"  Madge,  I  do  wish  you  wouldn't  talk  such  nonsense," 
cried  poor  Kate,  in  desperation.  "  How  would  you  like 
any  one  to  hear  you  ?  Now,  have  you  both  finished  ?" 
"  But,  Kate,  it  is  not  all  nonsense,"  persisted  Madge, 
clearing  the  juice  out  of  her  plate  with  laborious  care. 
"  Mr.  M'Kenzie  does  like  you.  I  asked  him,  and  he  said 
so;  and  I  asked  him  if  you  were  not  much  nicer  than 
Miss  Marryatt,  and  he  said  you  were  nicer  than  any  girl 
he'd  ever  met;  so  why  shouldn't  you  get  married  ?" 

"Ah!  why  shouldn't  you?  There  now!"  added 
George,  with  clinching  severity. 

Kate  took  him  by  the  shoulders  and  gave  him  a  little 
shake. 

"  I  wish  you  would  go  to  bed,  both  of  you,"  she  said, 
half  laughing,  half  crying.  "  I  never  saw  such  a  couple 
of  children  for  talking  of  what  you  don't  understand. 
'Get  married'  indeed!" — repeating  Madge's  phrase  with 
vast  scorn — "I  suppose  you  think  I  am  bound  to  marry 
every  one  who  likes  me ;  and  that  I  have  nothing  to  do 
but  to  order  anybody  I  like  to  marry  me.  If  that  is  the 
sort  of  way  you  talk  to  Mr.  M'Kemie,  I  shall  not  let  you 
be  with  him." 

"I'm  going  back  to  London  with  him,  so  you  can't 

stop   me,"  sang  George,  turning   a  summersault   before 

making  a  bolt   upstairs   to   his   bed-room;    and   Madge 

followed,  after  asking  Kate  if  she  were  coming  too. 

"  No,"  said  Kate,  "  I  am  going  to  sit  up  for  Dick,  and 

15 


226  PRE  TTY  MISS  BELLE  W. 

tack  the  clean  frills  into  your  jacket.  Martin  has  been 
too  busy  to  do  it." 

Kate  might  intend  to  sit  up  for  Dick ;  but  as  that 
young  gentleman  stayed  out  till  past  two  in  the  morning, 
and  she  was  already  tired  by  a  five  miles'  walk  that  day, 
her  endurance  was  not  equal  to  her  intentions;  where- 
fore, after  a  couple  of  hours  of  very  lonely  and  unhappy 
expectation  (Kate  was  never  a  lover  of  solitude),  she  be- 
took herself  to  bed,  making  up  her  mind  to  be  down  early 
and  ask  Dick  what  Mr.  Clive  had  said  the  first  thing  in 
the  morning.  What  could  he  have  to  say  against  Mr. 
M'Kenzie,  a  man  so  gentle-mannered,  quiet,  and  intellect- 
ual— a  gentleman  older  than  himself,  and  equally  well- 
born ?  Why,  it  was  preposterous !  it  was  a  miserable 
jealousy  and  love  of  detraction.  Kate  almost  hated  Ber- 
nard Clive  at  the  moment ;  and  yet  she  did  not  quite  be- 
lieve him  to  be  what  her  accusations  involved.  It  must  be 
only  his  dislike  to  herself  which  made  him  set  him- 
self against  the  friends  she  cared  for.  "And  yet,  why- 
should  he  dislike  me  so  much  ?"  thought  Kate.  "I  have 
never  done  anything  to  him.  I  would  have  even  been 
friends  with  him  if  he  would  have  let  me ;  but  he  won't. 
He  makes  me  rude  and  passionate  whenever  I  see  him ; 
and  when  I  am  feeling  quite  sorry  for  him,  and  kind,  he 
snubs  me  and  speaks  as  if —  Oh,  I  can't  bear  him  ;  and  I 
almost  hope  Bee's  beautiful  Mrs.  Grey  won't  marry  him ; 
for  I  am  sure  he  would  make  her  utterly  miserable." 

With  which  charitable  conclusion  Kate  fell  asleep,  and 
was  not  even  disturbed  by  the  sound  of  Dick's  coming 
upstairs,  and  banging  to  his  bed-room  door  with  his  usual 
thoughtlessness,  at  the  unholy  hour  aforementioned. 

She  had  forgotten  in  her  arrangements  for  the  morrow 
that,  however  early  she  might  be  down,  Dick  was  by  no 
means  certain  to  follow  her  example;  more  especially  as 
the  day  was  Sunday,  and  he  had  been  in  bed  so  late  the 
night  before.  As  it  turned  out  he  did  not  even  get  up  for 
church,  but  had  his  breakfast  sent  upstairs  to  him;  and 
George,  who  had  been  over  to  the  inn  bright  and  early, 
reported  that  he  had  seen  nothing  at  all  of  Clive,  but  that 
Mr.  M'Kenzie  had  said  he  had  had  a  very  stupid  day 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV.  227 

away  from  them  all,  and  had  sent  Kate  a  cluster  of  roses 
from  his  friend's  greenhouse. 

Those  roses  did  Kate  good.  It  was  not  like  her  to  "let 
the  sun  go  down  on  her  wrath,"  and  to  warm  it  up  with 
the  morning  orb  was  well  nigh  impossible.  The  bitter- 
ness of  Clive's  words  faded  with  the  night,  and  the  heat 
of  her  own  humiliated  her.  After  all,  he  was  a  lawyer,  a 
cold,  hard  man  ;  but  he  might  have  meant  well.  Perhaps 
Mr.  M'Kenzie  had  offended  him  once  on  a  time;  or  per- 
haps had  some  discreditable  relatives  whom  Clive  (being, 
as  she  knew,  terribly  proud  and  stand-aloof)  could  not 
dissociate  from  himself 

"  He  might  not  have  said  anything  if  I  had  not  been  so 
touchy,"  Kate  thought,  with  mortified  candor;  "and  then 
I  dare  say  I  irritated  him  to  say  more  than  he  meant 
No  one  could  really  dislike  Mr.  M'Kenzie  who  knew  him 
but  they  are  so  uttedy  unlike,  it  would  be  difficult  for  them 
to  get  on  well.  I  must  manage  to  bring  them  together 
and  make  them  like  one  another.  But  oh,  how  provok- 
ing not  to  be  able  to  see  Dick  before  going  to  church  !  Mr. 
Clive  must  have  had  a  great  deal  to  say  to  keep  him  out  so 
late :  but  what  a  shame  to  say  anything  against  Dallas 
M'Kenzie  when  he  is  so  good  and  kind,  and  so  diftcrent 
from  other  men !"  and  Kate  fell  to  sniffing  her  roses  with 
a  second  little  glow  of  gentle  indignation. 

She  was  wrong.  Clive  and  Dick  had  found  a  good 
deal  to  say  to  one  another,  but  it  was  not  about  Mr. 
M'Kenzie.  It  is  a  common  mistake  in  humanity  to 
imagine  that  whatever  is  deeply  interesting  to  us  must  as 
deeply  interest  other  people.  Kate  was  thinking  a  great 
deal  about  Dallas  M'Kenzie  at  present;  and  therefore, 
like  a  little  fool,  she  fancied  everybody  else's  mind  must  be 
similarly  occupied.  They  were  not,  however;  for  Clive 
was  thinking  too  much  of  Kate  herself  to  trouble  himself 
about  M'Kenzie,  except  in  conjunction  with  her;  and  as 
for  Dick,  he,  like  Kate,  was  so  taken  up  with  his  own 
less  innocent  and  more  complicated  affairs,  that  he  imag- 
ined Clive's  visit  must  have  reference  to  them  alone,  and 
was  impatient  to  get  out  of  doors  to  discuss  them  with 
him.  His  first  question,  as  they  turned  into  the  village 
street,  was  an  eager : 


428  PRETTY  MISS  BELLEVV. 

"  Well,  old  fellow,  and  what  about  that  girl  ?  " 
The  only  "girl"  occupying  Clive's  mind  at  that  mo- 
ment was  Kate.  He  was  just  thinking  how  pretty  she 
looked  even  when  she  was  angry,  and  wondering  within 
himself  whether  he  should  judge  her  wrath  as  harshly 
as  he  had  done  if  it  had  been  evoked  in  his  defense,  not 
Mr.  M'Kenzie's.  He  started  when  Dick  spoke,  and  re 
peated  "  Girl  ?  "  half  vaguely. 

"Yes,  you  know  whom  I  mean,"  replied  Dick,  impa- 
tiently. "  Fanny  Greypole,  my  young  woman,  and  be 
hanged  to  her!     Have  you  seen  her  again  ?" 


CHAPTER  XXII. 
dick's  love  affair. 

CLIVE  turned  round,  roused  from  his  own  thoughts  in 
an  instant,  and  putting  them  away,  as  was  customary 
with  him.  answered  pn^mptly  : 

"•  Yes,  I  have.  And  now,  Dick,  what  do  you  mean  to 
do  about  her  ?  " 

Dick  shuffled  and  swore.  Poor  fellow!  it  was  not  to 
be  wondered  at  that  he  so  often  sought  refuge  in  strong 
language,  for  there  was  nothing  else  strong  about  him — 
not  even  his  passions.  His  very  viciousness  was  so  weak, 
that  if  the  power  of  resisting  it  had  not  been  weaker  still, 
he  might  have  been  a  most  innocuous  member  of  society. 
Unfortunately,  however,  the  negative  qualities  permissible 
in  a  woman  are  not  sufficient  for  the  lords  of  creation.  It 
is  possihli'  for  her  to  jjass  through  life  without  a  single 
noble  thought — a  single  virtuous  or  unselfish  action — and 
yet  neither  be  guilty  of  positive  hurt  to  herself  or  those 
around  her ;  but  in  man  an  utter  impotence  for  good  im- 
plies in  itself  a  certain  potence  for  evil,  both  to  himself 
and  those  connected  with  him.  Dick's  career  was  a 
proof  thereof. 

"You  will  have  to  do  something,  I  am  afraid,"  said 
Clive,  quietly.  "  She  evidently  considers  you  as  engaged 
to  her;  and  as  she  has  lost  a  good  match  on  your  ac- 
count, the  mother  is  as  evidently  determined  not  to  let 
you  get  off  scathless." 

Dick  swore  agam,  alluding  to  Mrs.  Greypole  in  terms 
which,  had  that  good  lady  overheard,  she  might  have 
229 


230  PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 

been  tempted  to  carry  into  application  by  proving  that 
her  "bark  was  worse  than  her  bite." 

"  Did  she  tell  you  all  about  it  ?  "  he  asked,  when  he  had 
finished  his  litany  of  (im)pious  invocations. 

"  No.  The  mother  wished  to  do  so  ;  but  I  declined  to 
hear  it.  I  should  have  thought  you  might  have  known 
that.  When  you  tell  me  your  affairs,  I  am  willing  to 
listen  to  them ;  not  otherwise." 

"  You're  such  a  cursedly  honorable  fellow,"  said  Dick. 
"  I  thought  you  lawyers  liked  to  get  at  every  man's  se- 
crets." 

"  Even  our  friends'  ?  "  inquired  Clive,  calmly. 

"  Oh,  hang  it  all !  I'm  not  so  deucedly  scrupulous  as 
all  that.  If  I  could  catch  you  tripping — By  Jove !  what 
fun  it  would  be !  But,  I  say,  let's  go  up  to  your  room, 
and  I'll  tell  you  the  whole  secret.  I  don't  want  all  the 
world  to  be  overhearing  us." 

They  had  reached  the  door  of  the  inn,  and  were  look- 
ing down  the  steep  narrow  street,  with  the  moonbeams 
glittering  on  every  point  and  inequality  in  the  rough 
pavement,  and  sleeping  in  a  broad  splash  of  silver  on  the 
waters  of  the  cove  beneath.  Heavy  masses  of  black 
cloud  were  moving  slowly  across  the  dark  blue  sky,  and 
had  thrown  a  dark  band  of  shadow  athwart  the  middle 
distance  of  the  scarcely  breathing  sea;  but  beyond  that 
again  lay  a  thin  streak  of  white,  in  the  centre  of  which 
floated  a  tiny  barque,  every  spar,  block,  and  rope  of 
which  seemed  to  have  been  fashioned  out  of  frosted  silver 
by  a  fairy  shipwright.  Here  and  there  a  faint  twinkle  of 
light  just  reddened  the  window  of  some  cottage  whose 
habitants  were  more  wakeful  than  the  rest ;  and  in  some 
distant  yard  a  dog  was  barking  at  intervals  in  a  short 
jerking  way,  as  if  it  wanted  to  get  free;  but  otherwise 
all  was  very  still — very  silent ;  and  the  two  young  men 
in  their  well-cut  clothes,  and  with  their  fair  gentlemanly 
faces,  looked  strangely  out  of  keeping  with  the  primitive 
rusticity  of  the  scene  around,  and  the  quaint  old-fashioned 
porch,  with  its  peaked  roof  and  red-tiled  floor,  of  the  old 
hostelry  behind  them. 

Chve  turned  into  it  without  a  word.     How  could  he 


fKETTV  A/JSS  BELLEW.  231 

help  feeling  distrustful  and  suspicious  of  human  nature, 
when  even  among  his  friends  he  saw  specimens  such  as 
this?  He  was  not  a  particularly  religious  man,  but  he 
did  try  to  do  right  according  to  the  broad  and  simple 
canons  of  morality  ;  and  then  he  felt  sickened  and  in- 
dignant because  other  men  cast  them  aside  altogether, 
and  yet  went  to  church  and  sang  out  of  the  same  hymn- 
books  with  pure  and  gentle  women,  and  were  spoken  of 
as  rather  shining  lights  and  objects  of  admiration  than 
otherwise. 

"But,  after  all,  what  are  the  women  themselves?" 
thought  Clive,  thinking  of  his  own  experiences  as  a 
lawyer,  and  of  the  "behind-scene"  glimpses  to  which 
his  sister  Harriet  had  treated  him. 

They  were  just  passing  an  open  door  in  the  little 
white^'ashed,  raftered  passage  leading  to  Clive's  room  ; 
and  in  the  act  of  stooping  to  put  his  boots  outside,  his 
handsome  features  clearly  relieved  against  the  square  of 
light  behind,  stood  Dallas  M'Kenzie. 

"Ah,  Bellevv !  Good  evening.  How  are  you  all  up 
at  the  cottage  ? "  he  said,  in  his  bright  genial  way ;  and 
then,  as  his  eye  fell  on  Clive,  he  bowed,  adding  more 
coldly,  "  Mr.  Clive,  I  suppose.  I  heard  you  were  ex- 
pected to-day." 

"  Yes — I  have  been  promising  my  friend  l.ady  Mar- 
garet and  her  son  here  to  run  down  every  day  this  week," 
Clive  answered  as  stiftly,  and  not  sorry  to  show  that 
his  visit  was  not  without  due  authority.  "  But  I  am 
surprised  to  meet  you.  What  can  have  made  you  leave 
town  just  as  the  people  are  coming  back  to  it?" 

"Partly  from  a  whim,  partly  as  nurse,"  M'Kenzie 
answered,  laughing.  "The  season  and  its  votaries  are 
not  such  potent  charmers  for  me  as  for  you  young  Lon- 
doners.    Good  night." 

And  then  he  went  inside,  and  the  two  young  men 
passed  on. 

"Uo  you  like  him?"  Clive  asked.  "1  suppose,  since 
you  are  so  intimate,  you  do." 

"Oh,  yes — pretty  well.  He's  more  a  woman's  man 
than  one  of   us.  you   know — always   looking  after   the 


232  PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 

girls  and  playing  with  Dottie,  and  that  sort  of  thing. 
Rather  he  than  I,  say  I,  where  children  are  concerned; 
but  I  expect  he  got  deucedly  tired  of  Master  George, 
and  came  down  here  in  the  hope  of  getting  rid  of  him." 

Clive  sneered  shghtly.  His  opinion  of  Dick's  pene- 
tration was  below  mediocrity. 

"  Do  you  know  anything  about  him  and  his  antece- 
dents ?  "  he  asked. 

"I  know  he  belongs  to  the  M'Kenzies  of  Glen  Ruthie, 
and  was  in  the  Royal  Engineers  till  he  sold  out.  You 
met  him  in  America,  didn't  you  ?  so  you  ought  to  know 
more  of  him  than  I  do.  What  was  he  up  to  then  ?  and  is 
there  anything  against  him  ?  " 

Clive  hesitated.  He  did  know  more  of  Dallas 
M'Kenzie,  and  much  that  was  against  him  in  his  own 
opinion,  and  still  more  against  his  forming  an  intimacy 
with  the  Miss  Bellews,  and  perhaps  (it  was  a  horrible  idea ; 
but  George  had  suggested,  and  Kate's  blushes  confirmed 
it)  winning  the  affections  of  the  eldest  girl.  Five  minutes 
ago  he  had  been  prompt  to  speak  his  knowledge,  and 
warn  Dick  against  encouraging  a  friendship  with  the 
Canadian  ;  but  during  those  five  minutes  a  multitude 
of  considerations  had  occurred  to  his  mind,  and  stayed 
him  in  the  very  act  of  speaking.  These  reports  so  preju- 
dicial to  M'Kenzie,  how  had  he  heard  them  ?  In  a 
lawyer's  office  among  lawyers,  and  therefore  to  be  con- 
sidered as  in  some  sort  confidential ;  and  jested  about  in 
idle  gossip  at  the  bar  of  an  American  hotel !  Again, 
might  they  not  have  been  incorrectly  stated ;  and  there- 
fore, if  hastily  repeated,  to  be  upset  as  unworthy  of 
credence,  however  well  founded  at  bottom  ?  Again,  was 
his  motive  pure  from  beginning  to  end  in  thus  raking 
them  up  again  to  the  man's  disadvantage,  and  when  the 
latter  was  leading  a  life  honorable  and  respected  among 
his  fellow-men  ? 

These  were  three  important  questions. 
To  solve  them  in  three  seconds  was  impossible.     Only 
this  was  clear  to  him.     Until  he  could  feel  implicit  confi- 
dence in  himself,  he  ought  not  to  ask  Dick  to  put  confi- 
dence in  him,  especially  to  the  detriment  of  a  third  person. 


PRE TTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 

"I  do  not  know  much  of  him,"  he  said,  slowly.  "I 
met  him  once  or  twice  only.  He  had  just  returned  from 
Mexico  then ;  and  there  were  some  unpleasant  rumors 
about  him  and  a  Canadian  lady.  It  is  possible,  however, 
that  they  were  unfounded.  Go  on  with  what  you  were 
telling  me  about  yourself  first.     M'Kenzie  will  keep." 

Dick  obeyed,  nothing  loth.  He  always  preferred  the 
subject  of  himself  to  that  of  other  people;  and  if  there 
were  anything  shady  against  M'Kenzie,  it  would  be  easy 
to  drop  him  any  day.  Of  that  gentleman's  feelings,  or 
of  Kate's,  or  of  the  possibility  of  such  feelings  being  con- 
nected with  one  another,  Dick  never  thought :  it  was  not 
his  way.  Leaning  both  elbows  on  the  table,  and  filling 
himself  a  stiffish  glass  of  brandy  and  water,  he  went  full 
tilt  into  his  own  troubles  as  linked  with  the  fascinations  of 
Miss  Greypole. 

Shall  I  give  you  the  story  in  his  words?  1  think  not : 
it  might  be  less  wearisome  in  mine. 

Fanny  Greypole  was  the  daughter  of  a  well-to-do  gro- 
cer and  churchwarden,  and  had  been  early  sent  to  a  "col- 
lege for  youn^  ladies,"  and  taught  to  play  the  piano 
and  speak  French,  until  Mr.  Greypole's  sudden  fail- 
ure and  tieath  brought  her  home  to  a  new  order  of 
things,  and  a  less  pleasant  one  than  the  old.  Fortunately 
the  widow  was  a  woman  of  energy.  She  at  once  gave 
up  her  house,  sold  the  fixtures,  and  taking  a  less  expen- 
sive residence,  j)Ut  an  advertisement  in  the  daily  papers 
of  "board  and  lodging  for  a  respectable  single  man  of 
good  position,  or  two  brothers." 

"  Fanny  must  be  married  ofif  quick,"  said  Mrs.  Grey- 
pole, "and  married  respectable.  There's  nothing  like 
boarders  for  falling  in  love;  and  'taint  easy  to  play  the 
fool  with  a  young  woman  when  her  mother's  got  you  both 
under  her  own  nose." 

Good  reasoning  !  Unfortunately,  however,  Fanny  did 
not  remain  under  her  mother's  nose  as  desired ;  and  it 
avails  litde  having  a  right  theory  if  the  practice  be  not  in 
unison  with  it.  Fanny  was  a  rather  superior,  vcry])retty, 
and  very  self-willcil  girl.  The  first  boarder,  an  unexccp- 
tionally  respectable  young  man,  fell  in  love  with  her  at 


2  -4  P^^  ^'^'^ '  ^^^SS  BELLE  W. 

once ;  Fanny  fell  out  with  him  on  some  trifle  or  another ; 
Mrs.  Greypole  took  the  lover's  part;  and  Fanny — took 
herself  away.  She  went  to  Lady  Caroline  Beaumont  at 
Daulish  Park,  the  grand  lady  of  the  neighborhood,  and 
with  whose  house  she  had  got  well  acquainted  in  her 
childhood,  during  visits  paid  to  her  aunt,  who  had  been 
for  thirty  years  Lady  Caroline's  housekeeper;  and  she 
managed  to  establish  herself  there  as  part  lady's-maid, 
part  companion  to  the  Hon.  Miss  Beaumont,  a  chronic 
invalid  with  a  spinal  complaint,  which  kept  her  a  perpet- 
ual prisoner  to  the  sofa,  and  not  unfrequently  to  her 
room.  For  such  a  person  something  rather  different  from 
the  ordinary  h-dropping,  idealess  waiting-maid  was  really 
needful ;  and  Fanny — who  could  read  aloud  and  do  hair 
with  equal  dash,  who  knew  all  sorts  of  songs,  and  could 
sing  them  in  a  very  fair  voice,  who  could  make  dresses, 
and  chatter  vivaciously — became  quite  a  godsend  to  the 
poor  sufferer,  and  was  made  so  much  of  by  her  that  the 
young  woman  found  her  situation,  albeit  twanging  of  the 
menial,  infinitely  more  agreeable  than  a  dingy  back  par- 
lor, plenty  of  housework,  and  mother's  Scoldings,  in  the 
dingy  street  of  a  dingy  country  town. 

It  became  still  more  agreeable  after  the  arrival  of  Mr. 
Dick  Bellew  on  a  visit  to  Lady  Caroline  during  one  of 
his  summer  vacations. 

Besides  her  attendance  on  the  invalid,  Fanny  had  the 
special  charge  of  accompanying  Master  Alick  Beaumont, 
a  child  of  seven,  too  restless  for  the  nursery  and  too  small 
for  school,  in  his  rambles  in  the  park;  Lady  Caroline 
having  a  well-founded  suspicion  that,  if  left  to  himself,  he 
would  immediately  betake  himself  to  make  acquaintance 
with  the  new  kicking  horse  in  his  father's  stables,  or  the 
weeds  at  the  bottom  of  the  round  pond.  Dick  went  out 
one  day  to  smoke  a  meditative  cigar  in  the  park  also,  met 
Miss  Greypole  and  her  charge — the  former  radiant  in 
white  pique  and  pink  ribbons,  the  latter  gamboling  in 
front — fell  into  conversation  with  her,  was  fascinated  by 
her  shy  vivacity  of  speech,  and  fell  headlong  in  love  vvith 
her  bright  eyes  and  pretty  face. 

It  was  the  work  of  ten  minutes,  but   it   was   effectual. 


PKErrV  MISS  BELLE IV.  235 

Dick  had  no  appetite  for  dinner  that  day;  and  next 
morning  he  put  on  a  new  tie,  pinned  a  moss-rosebud  in 
his  button-hole,  and  salHed  forth  into  the  park  at  an  ear- 
her  hour  of  the  morning  than  generally  had  the  honor  of 
seeing  him  out  of  bed. 

Fanny  returned  from  her  excursion  that  day  with  a 
pink  rosebud  in  her  belt ;  and  Master  Alick  was  seedy 
from  an  over-surfeit  of  sugar-plums,  and  didn't  "remember 
anything"  about  his  walk  to  amuse  mamma  with  while  she 
was  dressing! 

Dick  had  at  first  taken  Miss  Greypole  for  a  visitor,  in 
right  of  her  smart  clothes  and  white  teeth  and  hands ; 
and  when   he  found  that   she   was  "only   Isobel  Beau- 
mont's   companion"   (I   am   afraid   Fanny   said   nothing 
about  the  hair-dressing  or  lady's-maid  side  of  the  matter) 
he  merely  gave  fuller  vent  to  his  admiration,  unchecked 
by  dread  of  interference  or  .cashiering  from  aristocratic 
father  and  mother.     He  meant  nothing,  of  course,  but  to 
thoroughly  enjoy  himself,  but  he  did  mean  that,  and  in 
laying  himself  out  for  that  end,  gave  little  thought  to  the 
character  of  the  girl  he  had  to  deal  with.      In  fact,  the 
gentleman  was  too  deeply  in  love  just  then  to  think  much 
of  anything,  and  made  as  great  a  fool  of  himself  as  young 
men  of  his  ilk  are  in  the  habit  of  doing  on  such  occa- 
sions.    Now,  Fanny  was  not  in  love  at  all.     She  had  not 
even  broken  with  the  lodger  at  home,  merely  meaning  to 
"bring  him  down  a  peg  or  two"  by  her  absence,  and  as- 
sert her  authority  to  rule  once  and  for  all  by  a  severe  ex- 
position of  the  consequences  of  rebellion  ;  but  she  was 
no  less  bent  than  lier  mother  on  making  a  "good"  mar- 
riage;   and  being  perfectly  well  acquainted  with  Dick's 
family  and  position,  decided  that  he  would  make  by  far 
the  better  match  of  the  two,  and  that  to  be  Mrs.  Bellew, 
and  on  visiting  terms  with  the  lady  in  whose  service  she 
was  now  living,  was  decidedly  preferable  to  becoming  the 
spouse  of  plain  John  Higginson,  clerk  in  a  wool-broker's 
office. 

To  this  end  she  played  her  cards.  I  don't  think  I 
need  enter  into  the  particulars  of  the  game.  Those  who 
have  seen  it  played  by  a  skillful  hand  require  no  descrip- 


2-:6  PI^E TTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 

tion  of  moves  equally  hackneyed  and  efficacious  ;  and  for 
others  I  need  simply  remark  that  by  a  judicious  use  of 
her  personal  charms,  and  a  judiciously  alternated  cold- 
ness, coquetry  and  yielding,  Dick  was  not  only  brought 
to  the  pitch  of  a  direct  offer,  but  (greater  triumph  still)  to 
confirm  that  offer  in  writing. 

"  Playing  with  you!"  he  wrote,  when  lashed  to  desper- 
ation by  Fanny's  coquetries — she  having  first  worked  him 
up  little  by  httle  to  a  perfectly  rampant  state  of  affection  ; 
then,  when  he  ardently  pleaded  for  some  return,  having 
told  him  that  he  w-as  only  playing  with  her,  and  taking 
herself  off  immediately  afterwards  for  two  or  three  days, 
during  which  she  declined  to  see  him,  and  eluded  all  his 
efforts  at  an  interview — "  Playing  wath  you  !  Oh,  Fanny  ! 
how  can  you  wrong  my  affection  so  cruelly  ?  I  swear  to 
you  that  I  love  you  as  I  have  never  loved  any  one  before 
— that  I  adore  you,  and  thaj:  I  would  rather  have  you  for  a 
wife  than  any  girl  living  !  For  Heaven's  sake,  Fanny,  have 
pity  on  me !  Say  you  will  love  me,  and  I  will  sacrifice 
my  whole  life  to  you.  What  is  life  worth  to  me  without 
you  ?  You  say  I  don't  want  you  for  a  wife.  My  beauti- 
ful love,  how  could  you  utter  those  words  so  coldly,  and 
go  away  without  giving  me  time  to  deny  them  ?  Only 
say  you  7C'///be  my  wife  and  my  own,  and  I  will  be  what 
I  am  now — yours  unalterably  and  forever, — Dick  Bel- 
lew." 

An  uncommonly  foolish  letter  to  be  written  by  a  young 
man  )iot  in  earnest ;  but,  as  you  may  perceive,  poor  Dick 
was  too  far  gone  by  now  to  remember  whether  he  were 
in  earnest  or  no;  and  he  not  only  sealed  and  sent  it,  but 
having  on  their  subsequent  interview  been  informed  of 
Fanny's  semi-engagement  to  the  other  gentleman,  whom 
she  introduced  under  the  title  of  "a  young  wool-mer- 
chant," he  flew  into  a  regular  lover's  passion  of  jealousy, 
repeated  all  his  offers  more  fervently  than  before,  insisted 
on  his  rival's  immediate  dismissal,  reiterated  the  whole 
scene  in  a  passionate  letter  written  that  same  evening; 
and,  on  Fanny's  promising  to  obey  him,  and  assuring  him 
that  she  had  no  sentiment  warmer  than  indifference 
for  Mr.  Higginson,  presented  her  with  a  very  pretty  em- 


rRETTY  MISS  BELLEW  237 

erald  ring  (bought  with  his  mother's  money),  and  put  it  on 
Miss  Greypolc's  finger  in  true  lover's  fasliion,  and  in  com- 
pany with  a  shower  of  kisses.  Then  Fanny  was  satisfied, 
and  became  so  sweet  and  amiable  as  to  wind  herself  more 
closely  into  Dick's  heart  than  before,  though  always  keep- 
ing him  on  the  tenter-hooks  by  rigidly  adhering  to  that 
"respectability"  which  Clive  had  somehow  recognized  in 
her  first  appearance. 

Also  she  did  what  neitlier  Clive  nor  Dick  would  have 
suspected:  she  went  straight  to  Miss  Beaumont  and  told 
her  in  strictest  confidence,  and  with  childlike  joy  and 
bashfulness,  that  she  was  engaged  to  Mr.  Eellew,  Lady 
Caroline's  guest.  Miss  Beaumont,  in  strictest  confidence, 
and  without  any  joy  at  all,  told  her  mother  j  and  Lady 
Caroline,  very  quietly,  and  without  giving  Dick  an  inkling 
of  the  real  cause  contrived  to  bring  that  young  gentle- 
man's visit  to  a  speedy  end. 

Before  even  doing  this,  however,  she,  with  a  due  regard 
to  the  hearts  of  her  other  male  guests,  told  Miss  Greypole 
that  her  daughter  would  be  going  abroad  very  shortly, 
and  could  therefore  dispense  with  her  services  as  com- 
panion. In  vulgar  terms,  through  Dick  Bellew  and  her 
"engagement"  with  him.  Miss  Fanny  "got  the  sack;" 
and  that  young  lady,  in  writing  to  her  lover,  told  him  as 
much  in  very  plain  and  rather  pathetic  language.  Dick 
did  not  feel  the  pathos.  In  fact,  it  was  not  easy  for  him, 
poor  fellow,  to  feel  very  much  for  even  his  best  beloved 
when  she  was  away  from  him.  However,  he  wrote  an 
aflectionate  letter  full  of  protestations  of  endearment ;  and 
Fanny,  who  had  grown  very  fond  of  the  scapegrace  after 
all,  took  it  for  more  than  it  meant,  and  was  content.  The 
biter  in  this  case,  as  in  others,  had  been  bitten. 

They  did  not  meet  again  for  six  months.  Dick's  letters 
had  dropped  off  in  arilor,  and  grown  few  by  degrees  and 
beautifully  less.  He  had  been  through  two  or  three  fiirt- 
ations  or  similar  di-lasscvicnts,  and  was,  indeed,  in  a  fair 
way  to  forget  the  Greypole  episode  as  though  it  had 
never  been.  Its  heroine,  however,  was  not  so  minded. 
Dick  might  mean  to  ignore  the  past,  but  Fanny  deter- 
mined to  recall  it.     She  said  no  word  of  complaint,  even 


238 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE  11'. 


to  her  fickle  lover  ;  but  after  waiting  patiently  for  a  given 
time,  wrote  to  an  uncle  at  Oxford,  a  farmer  with  three 
handsome  sons,  that  she  was  wanting  change  of  air,  and 
would  come  down,  if  he  were  wiUing,  to  try  it  at  the 
farm. 

Three  days  later,  Dick,  lounging  up  the  "  High"  for  his 
afternoon  stroll,  met  the  enchantress  looking  prettier  than 
ever,  bewitchingly  attired,  and  accompanied  by  the  hand- 
somest of  the  three  cousins.  Needless  to  say  the  effect. 
Fanny  had  managed  by  tact  as  much  as  beauty,  to  pierce 
young  Bellew's  heart  beneath  the  skin ;  and  the  wound 
had  only  partially  healed.  It  broke  out  afresh  at  the  un- 
expected rencontre  with  the  young  woman  who  had  in- 
flicted it,  was  aggravated  by  a  judiciously  blended  show 
of  cheerfulness  and  indifference  on  her  part,  and  festered 
by  jealousy  of  the  cousin,  until  Master  Dick  found  him- 
self more  hopelessly  in  love  than  ever,  and  renewing  all 
his  vows,  protestations,  and  promises,  till,  just  when  he 
was  gliding  to  the  very  verge  of  a  private  marriage,  the 
handsome  cousin,  suspecting  that  he  was  only  being  made 
a  tool  of  in  the  matter,  proposed  for  himself — was  refused 
— and  Fanny  had  to  leave  the  farm. 

Of  course,  as  soon  as  she  and  her  witcheries  were  gone, 
Dick  repented  himself  of  his  folly,  and  tried  to  drown 
the  remembrance  of  it  as  speedily  as  possible,  and  in  such 
a  manner  as  to  procure  his  rustication,  and  cover  his 
mother  with  affliction.  Indeed,  the  former  brought  with 
it  this  consoling  reflection  :  "She'll  be  sure  to  forget  all 
about  me  before  the  year  is  over,  especially  as  she  don't 
know  where  I  am."  Unfortunately,  however,  Fanny 
knew  his  home  address  as  well  as  the  college  one ;  and 
as  Dick  never  wrote  a  letter  without  betraying  something 
which  he  meant  to  hide,  she  managed  to  gather  a  pretty 
good  idea  of  his  doings  and  movements,  until  the  sudden 
flight  to  Combe  Regis  baffled  her  just  as  she  and  her 
mother  had  determined  to  come  up  to  London  and  insist 
on  a  fulfillment  of  the  "engagement"  which,  since  their 
last  meeting,  Dick  had  seemed  entirely  to  ignore. 

Such  was  the  story  of  young  Bellew's  connection  with 
Miss  Greypole,  not  as  told  by  Dick,  but  as  deduced  by 


PRETTY  MISS  Btl.LEW. 


239 


Clive  from  the  rival  accounts  of  man  and  maid,  sifted  and 
weighed  according  to  the  ex])erience  of  a  legal  mind. 
When  it  was  finished  he  said,  drily : 

"  Well,  Dick,  as  far  as  I  can  see  you  have  made  a  con- 
summate fool  of  yourself,  and  will  have  to  pay  for  it." 

"Why,  you  don't  mean  to  say  she'll  bring  an  action 
about  it,  do  you  ?"  asked  Dick,  miserably. 

"That  is  just  what  I  do  mean  to  say,  unless  you  settle 
it  with  her  beforehand." 

"What!  Sue  me  for  breach  of —  Oh!  hang  it  all, 
old  fellow ;  why,  it  would  ruin  me  bag  and  baggage. 
You're  out  there.  Fanny's  a  deuced  deal  too  fond  of  me 
for  that." 

"Fanny  is  fond  of  you  in  a  certain  way;  but  she  is 
fonder  of  herself,  her  good  name,  and  well-being.  She 
will  not  allow  any  of  those  to  be  damaged  by  maudhn 
sentimentality  on  her  part,  I  assure  you ;  and  even  if  she 
were  weak,  her  mother  would  be  strong  for  her." 

Dick  again  apostrophized  Mrs.  Greypole  with  the 
choicest  hyperboles  of  endearment. 

"I  might  just  as  well  hang  myself,"  he  observed,  dole- 
fully. 

"As  marry  Miss  Greypole?" 

"Gracious!  No,  that's  out  of  the  question  of  course. 
If  she  were  only  a  lady  I'd  marry  her  to-morrow,  that  is 
if  I'd  any  tin  to  keep  her  on ;  but  as  it  is — " 

"  Marriage  is,  as  you  say,  out  of  the  question.  Then 
Dick,  let  me  advise  you,  as  a  friend,  to  tell  Miss  Greypole 
so  plainly  and  honestly ;  show  her  that  for  your  mother's 
and  sisters'  sake  you  have  not  a  right  to  damage  your 
social  position,  even  if  you  would  wish  to  do  so.  Speak 
to  her  frankly.  Tell  her  you've  behaved  like  a  fool  and 
a  blackguard"  ("Thank  you,"  grumbled  Dick)  "and 
appeal  to  her  generosity.  If  that  doesn't  answer,  offer 
the  mother  what  compensation  you  can  ;  but  for  Heaven's 
sake  keep  it  out  of  the  police  courts.  That  would  be 
worse  for  your  family  than  any  mt'salliaiice.'' 

"Hang  my  family!"  said  Dick,  peevishly.  "It  is  / 
who  am  to  be  considered  first,  I  think  ;  but  no  one  ever 
gives  a  thought  to  that.       Hullo  I  it's  getting  on  for  two; 


240 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE W. 


I  must  be  off.  One  word  though,  CUve :  I'll  het  you 
three  to  one  that,  before  I've  said  half  the  things  you've 
been  suggesting,  I  shall  be  on  my  knees  begging  Fanny 
to  be  mine  at  any  price.  There's  something  about  that 
girl  perfectly  irresistible." 

"  Then  give  me  your  word  not  to  see  her  again,  except 
in  the  presence  of  myself  or  some  cooler  head  than  youi 
own.  Write  to  her;  or  if  you  must  see  her,  let  it  be 
with  a  friend  who  can  help  you.  Come,  Dick,  youi 
promise  on  that." 

"All  right,"  said  Dick;  "I  don't  want  \.q  find  myself 
spliced,  I  can  assure  you.  Good  night,  old  fellow;  you 
shall  write  the  letter  for  me,"  and  then  Mr.  Bellew  took 
himself  away,  without  another  word  having  been  said  on 
the  subject  of  Dallas  M'Kenzie. 

Left  alone,  Clive  gave  his  mind  to  the  latter,  and 
thought  about  him  long  and  steadily.  The  great  ques- 
tions after  all  were — was  that  gentleman  in  love  with 
Kate  Bellew,  and  was  he  trying  to  make  her  in  love 
with  him  ?  If  so,  and  if  those  old  stories  about  him 
were  true,  Clive  felt  that  it  was  not  right  that  the  Bellews 
should  be  left  in  ignorance  of  them ;  and  that  no  scruples 
of  delicacy  would  excuse  his  silence  in  their  eyes,  were  it 
to  be  the  cause  of  Kate's  affections  being  irretrievably 
engaged.  If,  however,  those  accusations  against  him 
were  either  false  or  one-sided  (as  was  possible),  Clive's  own 
sensitive  honor  told  him  that  he  could  never  excuse  him- 
self for  having,  no  matter  with  what  good  intentions, 
slandered  a  man  who  he  felt  instinctively  was  his  rival ; 
and  even  if  they  were  true,  provided  M'Kenzie  had  no 
intention  of  wooing  or  winnmg  Katie  Bellew,  would  it  be 
fair  or  manly  to  rake  them  up  now  to  his  prejudice,  when 
he  was  living  a  new  life  in  a  new  country,  and  but  for  an 
accident  might  have  left  the  past  buried  in  general  and 
entire  oblivion  ?  No,  the  more  indignant  Clive  felt  with 
Mr.  M'Kenzie  for  having  inserted  himself  into  an  intimacy 
with  the  Bellews  with  that  slur  hanging  over  him,  the 
more  he  felt  that  it  was  for  any  one  rather  than  himself 
to  betray  him. 

"I  will  wait,"  was  his  concluding  thought,  "wait  and 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV.  241 

see  for  myself  whether  my  suspicions  are  correct ;  and  if 
I  see  anything  to  confirm  them,  I  will  go  straight  to 
M'Kenzie  himself,  tell  him  what  I  have  heard  against  him, 
and  give  him  the  choice  of  disproving  it,  of  breaking  with 
the  Bellews,  or  of  no  longer  allowing  them  to  remain  in  ig- 
norance of  his  character.  He  is  a  gentleman  and  a  man 
of  honor  in  most  matters ;  and  even  if  we  have  a  row 
about  it,  I  believe  he  will  behave  fairly  and  above-board, 
if  treated  m  a  like  manner.  I  hate  underhand  work." 
16 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE  QUARREL  BY  THE  SHORE, 

FOR  the  first  time  in  her  life,  Kate  was  suffering  from 
an  attack  of  real  girlish  embarrassment,  at  the  idea 
of  meeting  a  gentleman — two  gentlemen,  in  fact ;  and 
during  the  process  of  putting  on  her  bonnet  for  church, 
she  wished  very  heartily  that  she  could  send  the  chil- 
dren without  her,  and  copy  Dick's  example  by  staying 
at  home. 

"But  if  I  were  to  let  those  dreadful  children  go  with- 
out me,"  thought  Kate,  with  a  prophetic  shiver,  "Heaven 
only  knows  what  worse  things  they  would  say  to  them. 
How  I  do  wish  boys  were  not  so  silly,  and  men  so  dis- 
agreeable, putting  such  nonsense  into  one's  head!  I 
only  hope  they  will  both  have  overslept  themselves,  like 
Dick." 

And  then  the  first  chimes  of  the  bell  began,  and  Kate 
had  to  hurry  downstairs,  and  see  George's  fingers  into 
his  gloves,  and  help  Madge  in  a  frantic  search  for  her 
prayer-book  before  they  started. 

I  don't  know  whether  it  was  the  rapid  walk  up-hill, 
or  the  confusion  of  seeing  her  last  hope  unverified,  but 
certainly  Kate's  cheeks  were  glowing,  and  she  had  never 
looked  lovelier  in  her  life  than  when  she  came  into  view 
of  the  two  gentlemen  waiting  in  the  churchyard  for  her 
arrival.  Clive  was  nearest;  but  he  was  apparently  en- 
gaged in  contemplating  the  view  from  the  hill,  while 
M'Kenzie,  who  stood  on  the  church  steps,  was  palpably 
and  unaffectedly  looking  out  for  nothing  but  the  jjarty 
242 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 


243 


from  the  cottage;  and  as  Kate's  eyes,  passing  Clive,  met 
his,  and  saw  the  briglitening  recognition  in  them,  over 
all  her  face,  and  even  over  the  little  shell-like  ears  and 
round  throat,  there  stole  a  tender,  excjuisite  blush,  vivid 
and  delicate  as  that  in  the  heart  of  a  moss-rosebud — the 
virginal  banner  of  submission,  and  as  such  read  only  too 
acqarately  by  the  man  of  whose  nearer  presence  she  was 
as  yet  unconscious.  In  that  fleeting  blush,  that  almost 
imperceptible  droop  of  the  proud  little  head  and  saucy 
eyes,  Clive  learned  that  his  last  night's  suspicions  were 
correct.  Kate's  heart  had  yielded  to  a  master's  touch, 
and  that  master  was  Dallas  Al'Kenzie.  More — in  the 
way  in  which  her  gaze,  while  going  to  his  rival  as  a  bird 
to  Its  nest,  i)assed  liini  without  even  a  flicker  of  recogni- 
tion, he  learned  her  entire  indifterence  to  himself,  and  the 
hitherto  unguessed-at  strength  of  his  own  passion  for 
her.  It  was  only  a  moment,  and  yet  long  enough  to 
teach  a  man  three  lessons  bitter  enough  to  rankle  through 
a  lifetime — lessons  which,  if  they  had  only  been  remem- 
bered and  acted  on,  might  have  saved  him  many  an  hour 
of  after-pain,  without  increasing  the  poignancy  of  this. 

He  knew  before  that  he  cared  for  her — that,  unlike  his 
ideal  as  she  was,  she  had  yet  grown  dear  to  him  in  a  way 
which  no  ideal  could  ever  be;  but  that  he  loved  her  like 
this  ! — that  a  fleeting  blush  on  her  cheek  should  pierce 
his  heart   with  an  anguish  sharper  than   any  knife,  and 
make  every  vein  in  his  body  thrill  with  a  fierce  jealousy  and 
anger  against  the  other  man,  now  crossing  the  path  to  take 
her  hand  in  easv,  cordial  welcome — that  was  a  revelation 
sadder  and  more  overwhelming  than  even  that  which  was 
given    to   the   Israelitish    king    of  old    to    whom    it    was 
written,  "This  night  shall  thy  soul  be  required  of  thee." 
Clive  was  a  proud  man,  and  no  sign  of  what  was  pass- 
ing in  his  soul  showed  in  the  hard,  stern  lines  of  his  face, 
as,  disdaining  to  press  his  prior  claim  of  friendship  where 
it  was  not  recognized,  he  moved  aside  at  once  to  give 
M'Kenzie  precedence,  and   would   indeed   have   merely 
greeted  his  friends  with  a  bow  before  passing  on  into  the 
church;  but  Kate  had  seen  him  by  now,  and  remember- 
ing her  good  resolutions,  she  took  her  hand  from  M'Kcn- 


244  PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 

zie,  stretching  it  out  to  the  young  barrister  with  a  smile 
more  cruel  in  its  sweetness  than  her  previous  ignoring. 

"Aren't  you  ashamed  of  yourself?"  she  said,  looking 
up  in  his  face  with  laughing  eyes,  which  swept  the  bitter- 
ness from  his  heart  like  breath  from  a  glass  ;  "  keeping  my 
brother  out  till  two  o'clock  this  morning,  and  preventing 
his  getting  up  for  church,  as  a  good  Christian  should ! 
We  don't  allow  of  such  hours  in  Combe  Regis,  Mr.  Clive, 
and  I  am  very  angry.  I  wonder  you  are  up  yourself  this 
morning." 

"  But,  you  see,  I  am  so  fond  of  the  country,  I  don't 
like  to  waste  more  minutes  of  it  in  sleep  than  is  positively 
necessary ;  and  I  think  it  was  Dick  who  made  me  late, 
not  I  him,"  said  Clive,  smiling  involuntarily,  poor  fel- 
low !  under  his  queen's  brightness. 

She  shook  her  head,  rebukingly. 

"You  should  never  throw  blame  on  the  absent  ones, 
Mr.  Clive.  We  must  hear  Dick's  account  before  I  decide 
who  was  in  fault.  Hark  !  the  bell  has  stopped  :  we  must 
go  in;"  and  then,  having  kept  Clive  at  her  side  till  they 
were  at  the  door,  she  allowed  him  to  follow  her  into  the 
pew,  and  take  his  seat  at  her  side,  without  betraying,  by 
word  or  sign,  how  far  rather  she  would  have  seen  M'Ken- 
zie  in  his  place.  Clive  was  pleased  and  surprised,  M'Ken- 
zie  cheerful  and  indifferent.  He  had  not  seen  the  blush 
which  roused  such  a  tempest  in  the  barrister's  soul,  but 
Kate  was  only  too  conscious  of  it,  and  while  hating  herself 
for  the  weakness,  became  childishly  timid  lest  M'Kenzie 
should  be  aware  of  it  as  well.  It  was  "all  George's 
nonsense,"  but  very  annoying  all  the  same ;  and  he  must 
think  her  so  silly !  She  was  quite  grateful  for  the  excuse 
to  turn  away  to  Clive,  and  by  devoting  herself  exclusively 
to  him  distract  attention  from  her  gauche  confusion  of  a 
moment  back. 

Poor  Clive !  After  all  he  had  not  so  much  cause  for 
gratitude  as  he  imagined. 

They  all  walked  back  to  the  cottage  to  dinner  as  soon 
as  service  was  over ;  but  Kate  had  forgotten  her  blush  by 
now,  and  M'Kenzie  was  at  her  right  hand,  chatting  in  the 
familiar  way  of  an  old  fiicnd  about  "our"  walk  the  day 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 


245 


before  yesterday,  "our"  boating  adventure,  and  the  place 
where  "we"  left  off  in  "Ingoldsby."  There  was  nothing 
in  all  that  he  said  put  together  which  might  not  have 
been  cried  at  the  Town  Cross  with  impunity,  but  it  all 
implied  the  pleasant  confidence  of  intimacy;  and  Clive, 
who  had  no  share  in  the  "us"  and  "our,"  felt  shut  out 
and  put  on  one  side.  The  sore,  jealous  feeling  rose  again 
in  his  breast,  mingled  with  a  sense  of  indignation  against 
his  rival ;  but  when  he  looked  at  Kate's  face,  so  radiant 
with  innocent  happiness,  at  the  expression  in  her  eyes 
when  they  rested  on  M'Kenzie,  so  soft  and  liquid,  with  a 
trustful  love  as  yet  unknown  even  to  herself,  that  indig- 
nation became  deepened  and  strengthened  into  a  purely 
unselfish  passion — sorrow  for  her,  that  such  love  and  trust 
should  ever  be  wasted,  and  anger  against  the  man  who 
could  wrong  it  by  even  a  shadow  of  deception.  "And 
to  win  her  love  by  the  pretense  of  being  one  thing,  while 
in  reality  he  is  another,  is  such  cowardly  deception," 
thought  Clive.  "No  one  but  a  blackguard  would  trade 
on  a  girl's  innocence,  and  her  brother's  thoughtlessness. 
Pray  Ciod  he  be  not  teaching  Jwr  decei)tion  too  !  Surely 
if  Lady  Margaret  knew  of  his  intimacy  here  she  would 
have  made  some  allusion  to  it — would  have  wished  to 
know  something  more  of  the  man  with  whom  her 
daughter  was  thrown,  and  have  taken  some  precautions 
against  the  imperiling  of  her  peace  of  mind.  She  can 
never  know,  or  she  would  have  taken  better  care  of  her 
daughter." 

Clive's  own  passion  had  faded  out  of  his  mind  amid 
these  thoughts.  His  whole  heart  was  filled  with  Kate, 
her  hnppiness  and  her  innocence,  to  the  exclusion  of  him- 
self, and  his  own  wishes.  He  was  fretting  and  fuming 
within  himself  because  no  one  took  proper  care  of  her; 
or  considered  her  interest  with  sufi^icient  zeal ;  but  just 
then  Kate  turned  round  and  smiled  upon  him,  rebuking 
him  with  jilayfui  im])eriousness  for  being  "so  silent,"  and 
once  again  the  lover  resumed  his  place,  and  with 
clenched  fist  and  set  jaw  Clive  muttered  to  himself: 

"She  shall  not  be  given  up  to  him  so  easily.  If  she 
hated  me  she  could  never  speak  to  me  in  such  a  tone,  and 


246  PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 

if  no  one  else  will  take  care  of  her,  I  will.  She  is  but  a 
child,  needing  guidance  and  protection  at  every  step  to 
save  her  from  the  shoals  and  breakers  of  whose  very  ex- 
istence she  is  ignorant ;  and  I  should  be  a  coward  indeed 
if,  loving  her  as  I  do,  I  were  to  shrink  from  being  that 
guide  and  protector  because  she  has  given  me  so  little 
encouragement  to  declare  my  love." 

It  was  the  resolve  of  a  moment;  but  as  it  passed  it 
gave  his  face  its  harshest  expression,  and  his  voice,  as  he 
answered  Kate,  sounded  so  gruff  and  short,  that  she  in- 
voluntarily repented  her  of  having  tried  to  be  sweet  to 
such  a  disagreeable  man;  and  even  M'Kenzie  lifted  his 
dark  eyes  and  looked  at  him  half  inquiringly. 

"He  is  in  love  with  her,  and  jealous,"  thought  the 
Canadian,  with  a  faint  smile.  "  Poor  devil!  I'm  afraid 
he  hasn't  the  ghost  of  a  chance,  and  certainly  he  isn't  go- 
ing the  right  way  to  win  one.  Surly  looks  and  short 
answers  will  never  win  Katie  Bellew.  A  child  could  lead 
her  with  a  silken  thread :  I  doubt  if  the  strongest  man 
living  could  drag  her  with  a  two-inch  cable." 

"You  are  abstracted,  Mr.  Clive,"  he  said,  aloud,  and 
more  with  the  object  of  softening  the  edge  of  Clive's  ill- 
tempered  manner  to  Kate  than  of  roughing  it  against 
himself  "  Do  legal  complications  even  follow  you  down 
to  such  a  quiet  little  nest  as  this  ?  Why  don't  you  copy 
my  example,  and  fold  away  your  cares  with  your  London 
coat,  not  to  be  opened  till  your  return  ?  " 

"  Do  you  find  it  so  easy  to  leave  your  cares  behind 
you  ?  "  said  Clive,  turning  to  him,  a  peculiar  light  in  his 
eyes — a  peculiar  inflection  in  his  voice.  "  1  should  have 
thought  there  were  some  cares  no  man  could  fold  away 
with  his  coats — cares  which  would  follow  him  wherever 
he  went,  whether  he  willed  to  leave  them  unopened  or 
no." 

Either  the  tone  or  the  words  touched  some  chord  which 
brought  a  shade  over  M'Kenzie's  handsome  face.  His 
eyes  met  Chve's  with  an  angry  question  in  them,  and  he 
answered,  sharply : 

"  Every  man  has  some  troubles,  I  suppose ;  but  so  long 
as  they  are  not  to  be  remedied,   I  consider  that  he  is 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE  W. 


247 


right  and  bound  to  bury  them  out  of  even  his  own  sight 
as  far  as  possible,  instead  of  raking  them  up  to  sadden 
other  people." 

"The  dead  rise  sometimes  without  being  raked  up," 
retorted  Clive,  "  and  ghosts  are  occasionally  unpleasant 
visitors — the  ghosts  of  buried  sins  especially." 

M'Kenzie's  eyes  flashed  out  suddenly  till  their  black 
depths  glowed  like  two  furnaces ;  and  the  blood  rushed 
into  his  face,  swelling  the  veins  on  his  brow  like  purple 
cords,  and  making  his  whole  figure  dilate  in  a  manner 
which  made  Kate  shrink  from  him  in  involuntary  alarm. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  he  asked,  voice  and  lips  quiv- 
ering with  rising  passion.     "What  the  devil  have  you — " 

"  My  dear  Mr.  M'Kenzie,  don't  excite  yourself,  or  you 
will  frighten  our  young  hostess,"  said  Clive,  coolly. 
"We  never  advert  to  his  gracious  majesty  below  stairs  in 
English  society.  You  alluded  to  the  legal  complications 
weighing  on  my  mind — didn't  you  ?  I  was  referring  to 
certain  of  those  very  complications  which  hajd  come 
within  my  experience.  Surely  you  couldn't  have  taken 
my  words  as  applying  to  yourself?  " 

The  words  were  more  soothing  than  the  tone,  which 
savored  of  the  sarcastic.  M'Kenzie,  however,  had  had 
time  to  recollect  himself,  and  repent  of  his  late  violence. 
By  a  stupendous  effort,  terrible  even  to  see  in  one  whose 
passions  were  naturally  so  strong — an  effort  which  drove 
away  every  vestige  of  color  from  his  face,  so  lately  suf- 
fused with  rage — he  mastered  his  emotion  as  suddenly  as 
it  had  mastered  him.  There  was  even  a  smile  visible 
under  his  heavy  moustache,  as  turning  to  Clive,  he  said, 
all  trace  of  anger  gone  from  his  voice  : 

"Miss  Bellew  knows  what  an  excitable  backwoodsman 
1  am  ;  but  indeed,  Mr.  Clive,  you  speak  so  ambiguously 
at  times,  that,  setting  a])art  my  long  absence  from  P>n- 
glish  society,  1  may  be  excused  for  not  always  being  sure 
of  wliat  you  do  mean.  I  don't  expect  I  am  any  different 
from  other  men  in  having  many  a  buried  fault  to  regret ; 
yet  I  c(nil(l  hardly  (as  you  say)  suppose  you  to  be  allud- 
ing to  them." 

He  spoke  so  frankly,  and  in  such  a  tone  of  good-hu- 


248  PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 

mored  dignity,  that  for  a  moment  Clive  felt  rebuked,  and 
staggered  in  his  suspicions.  Only  for  a  moment,  however. 
The  next,  his  common  sense  asserted  itself,  and  told  him 
that  that  blaze  of  passion  had  never  been  evoked  if  his 
words  had  not  hit  home  to  some  secret  sore. 

"I  struck  the  right  nail  on  the  head  there,"  thought 
Clive;  "but  what  a  hypocrite  the  fellow  must  be,  to  be 
able  to  assume  that  air  of  virtuous  forbearance  !  '  Faults,' 
indeed  !  He  shall  let  me  know  before  to-night  if  those 
faults  be  the  same  as  some  I  have  heard  of;  and  if  so,  he 
is  no  fit  suitor  for  Lady  Margaret's  daughter ;  and  she 
shall  know  it  too,  unless  he  withdraw  himself." 

Dottie's  little  voice  broke  up  his  moulding  resolutions. 

"  Is  00  cwoss  ?  "  she  asked,  slipping  her  tiny  hand  into 
his.  "And  is  Misser  M'Tenzie  angwy  wis  00?  Him 
fwightened  me  so  much.     Don't  00  be  cwoss  too." 

"  No,  Dottie — I'm  not  cross  now.  Stay  with  me  and 
I'll  take  care  of  you,  and  not  let  you  be  frightened  by 
any  one,"  Clive  answered,  with  a  sudden  softening  in  his 
tone,  a  sudden  warmth  and  gratitude  at  his  heart,  which 
showed  what  tenderness  could  do  for  him,  poor  fellow ! 
and  which  was  perhaps  intensified  by  the  sight  of  Kate, 
who,  irritated  at  his  rudeness  to  her  friend,  and  keenly 
appreciative  of  the  latter's  victory  over  himself,  was  de- 
voting herself  to  entertain  him  with  even  more  than  her 
usual  sunny  grace. 

Clive  took  Dottie  up  in  his  arms,  kissing  the  baby-lips 
twice  before  he  hoisted  her  on  to  his  shoulder. 

"Would  you  like  a  ride,  little  lady  ?"  he  said,  rather 

huskily.     "  Hold  tight,  then,  and  we'll  be  home  before 

any  one  else;"  and  so  started  off,   Madge  and   George 

.  following  in  high    glee  at   the  spectacle,  and   leaving  the 

other  two  to  follow  at  their  leisure. 

The  day,  which  ought  to  have  been  so  pleasant  among 
a  party  of  young  people  thrown  together  in  this  im- 
promptu picnic-like  fashion,  but  which  was  in  reality  full 
of  constraint  and  awkwardness,  and  an  odd  feeling  of 
thunder  in  the  air,  ready  to  burst  at  any  moment,  came 
to  an  end  at  last.  Kate  had  intended  to  divide  her  at- 
tentions impartially ;  but   Dick  monopolized  Clive ;  and 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE W.  249 

as  the  latter  made  no  eftbrt  to  break  away,  but  rather 
seemed  to  avoid  her  than  otherwise,  she  was,  as  it  were, 
thrown  upon  M'Kenzie;  and  indeed,  after  the  first,  felt 
rather  glad  that  fate  had  so  willed  it ;  for,  whether  from 
some  reminder  contained  in  Clive's  words,  or  other  cause 
unknown,  he  had  fallen  into  one  of  those  depressed 
moods  which  made  Kate's  heart  yearn  to  him,  with  that 
wistful  tenderness  which  seems  i)art  of  the  maternal  in- 
stinct inherent  in  every  woman  from  the  time  of  her  first 
doll.     Once  he  said,  in  answer  to  some  remark  of  hers : 

''I  am  not  sure  that  1  shall  stay  in  England.  Some- 
times I  think  of  returning  to  America  for  good." 

And  then  Kate's  cheek  grew  suddenly  pale,  and  her 
great  eyes  round  with  involuntary  dismay. 

"You  don't  mean  it?  Oh!  surely  you  would  not  go 
away  from  all  your  friends  again,"  she  said,  in  a  cjuick, 
anxious  voice,  which  betrayed  quite  unconsciously  to  her- 
self what  such  a  going  away  would  be  to  her;  but  which 
Clive  heard,  and  against  his  own  will  understood  at  more 
than  its  right  meaning. 

"Why  not?"  said  M'Kenzie,  smiling  half  sadly.  "I 
have  not  so  many  friends  as  you  think,  Miss  Eellew — 
none,  at  any  rate,  to  whom  my  going  or  staying  would 
make  any  difference." 

"That  is  \\\vdi  you  think,"  said  Kate,  warmly,  "and 
perhaps  you  don't  count  us ;  but,  Mr.  M'Kenzie,  we 
shoukl  care — all  of  us.  Do  not  think  of  going.  En- 
gland is  much  pleasanter  than  America,  and,  besides,  it  is 
your  home.  1  thought  you  were  quite  happy  here.  Why 
shoukl  you  want  to  go  traveling  away  again  ?" 

He  looked  down  at  her,  smiling  still.  There  was 
something  so  wonderfully  pretty — so  childishly  mnocent 
in  the  coaxing  appeal.  "How  can  you  wish  to  travel 
away  from  me  again  ?"  was  written  in  such  perfect  uncon- 
sciousness on  the  lifted  face,  the  little  rose-tipped  fin- 
gers clasped  so  tightly  over  her  knee.  Surely  M'Kenzie 
read  that  writing,  and  by  his  extra  dozen  years  of  experi- 
ence guessed  the  secret — a  secret  even  to  its  mistress — 
which  petal  by  petal  was  slowly  breaking  from  bud  to 
flower  in  that  girlish  heart !     No  I     Far  away,  over  nearly 


250 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 


half  of  those  twelve  years — over  more  than  twelve  hun- 
dred miles  of  land  and  sea,  the  man's  mmd,  struck  by- 
some  echo  m  the  voice,  some  line  in  the  lissom  stooping 
figure,  had  wandered  to  a  darkened  room  in  a  far-distant 
country — to  a  silent  form,  awful  in  its  mute,  rigid  white- 
ness, stretched  upon  the  bed;  and  a  woman  not  many  years 
older  than  Kate — but,  ah,  God  !  how  different — a  woman 
gold-haired  and  regal-browed  as  Guinevere  of  old,  borne 
in  his  arms  on  to  the  lobby  without.  Four  years  ago ! 
and  yet,  as  though  it  were  but  an  hour  back,  he  seemed 
to  feel  the  weight  of  those  queenly,  senseless  limbs ;  the 
cold  touch  of  the  pale,  pure  cheek  against  his  breast ;  the 
cascade  of  glittering  hair  dripping,  like  a  rain  of  living 
gold,  well-nigh  to  the  floor  over  his  supporting  arm ;  the 
slender  fingers  clinging  even  in  that  deadly  faintness  to  his 
coat,  as,  when  laying  her  down  in  the  fresh  air  and  sun- 
shine outside,  he  caught  a  murmur  from  the  parted 
lips: 

"  Don't  leave  me,  Dallas — stay." 

Dick's  voice  startled  him  to  the  present. 

"  Lucky  fellow  you  are,  M'Kenzie  ! "  he  said,  lazily — 
"able  to  go  ofi"  to  Australia  or  Canada  at  an  hour's  no- 
tice, and  with  not  as  much  bother  as  i  have  to  go  through 
if  I  want  to  come  up  to  London  from  Oxford.  That's 
the  good  of  having  no  family  ties  and  that  sort  of  thing." 

Clive  was  leaning  back  in  an  American  chair,  playing 
at  cat's-cradle  with  Dottie,  who,  perched  on  his  knee, 
with  her  little  pink,  pli^mp  legs  dangling  far  from  the 
ground,  was  laughing  up  in  his  face,  as  her  fat  fingers 
blundered  through  the  mesh  held  in  those  long  and  strong 
ones  for  her  delectation.  His  blue  eyes  flashed  out  in  a 
keen  glance  over  her  head,  as  he  spoke  in  answer  to 
Dick's  remark. 

"  Perhaps,  Dick,  Mr.  M'Kenzie's  family  ties  are  m 
Canada,  in  which  case  neither  we  nor  Miss  Bellew  could 
wonder  at  his  being  anxious  to  return  to  them.  A  man 
must  always  feel  in  rather  a  false  position  when  living 
apart  from  all  his  natural  belongings. — Don't  you  agree 
with  me,  Mr.  M'Kenzie?" 

He  raised  his  voice  a  little  at  the  last  words,  fixing  his 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE W. 

251 

eyes  in  an  unspoken  challenge  on  M'Kenzie's  face;  and 
the  latter  met  them  fully  and  defiantly.  It  was  the  first  clash 
of  steel  in  a  duel  to  the  death ;  but  he  who  had  delivered 
that  preliminary  feint  was  cool  and  collected,  while  there 
was  an  angry  flush  on  his  antagonist's  brow — an  agitated 
break  in  his  voice,  as  he  guarded. 

"My  natural  belongings  are  confined  to  a  i^^^-  Scottish 
relations,  who  care  as  little  forme  as  I  for  them.  Family 
ties  of  my  own  I  have  none — here  or  in  Canada." 

A  |)ause.  Dottie  found  the  cradle  slipping  with 
miraculous  gentleness  on  to  her  fingers,  and  Was  lifted 
lightly  to  the  floor,  with  a  kiss  of  congratulation  on  her 
skill. 

"  Dick,"  said  Clive,  rising  to  his  feet,  one  hand  still  on 
the  little  golden  head,  "  will  you  write  that  letter  you  want 
me  to  take  back  with  me  to-morrow  ?  I  may  start  early, 
so  I  should  like  to  have  it  as  early  as  may  be.  Suppose 
you  do  it  now  while  I'm  having  a  smoke  on  the  beacli ; 
Miss  Bellew  very  rightly  disapproves  of  late  hours  ;  and 
you're  such  a  lazy  fellow,  you  won't  stir  while  you've  an 
excuse  for  idlcsse  in  my  company." 

He  spoke  to  Dick,  but  he  looked  at  M'Kenzie  still.  "  I 
will  go  with  you,"  said  the  latter,  in  answer  to  that  look ; 
and  Clive  nodded.  After  all,  that  had  only  been  the  pre- 
liminary sharpening  of  the  weapons.  The  real  duel  was 
to  come;  a  duel  with  no  seconds  and  no  witnesses:  a 
duel  not  for  life  or  death,  but  for  sweeter  than  life  and 
sharper  than  death — for  honor  or  dishonor. 

And  even  innocent,  light-hearted  Katie  felt  a  cold 
shiver  of  some  impending  evil  creep  over  her  warm  young 
limbs,  and  dim  the  roses  in  her  fresh  fair  cheeks,  as  she 
listened,  anxious  but  uncomprehending.  Yet  there  was  a 
smile  on  each  man's  face  as  he  turned  to  her  before  going 
out. 

"What  time  do  you  have  tea,  Miss  Bellew?"  said 
M'Kenzie.  "  Eight  ?  Thanks.  We  won't  keep  it  w  ait- 
ing;  but  I'm  sure  you'll  be  glad  to  get  rid  of  us  for  a  few 
minutes,  after  devoting  yourself  to  us  so  kindly  tiirough 
the  whole  day." 

"Wherefore  we  won't  inflict  ourselves  on  you  a  moment 


252  PRE  TTY  MISS  BELLE  W. 

before  eight,"  added  Clive. — "  Dick,  you  lazy  beggar, 
you'll  want  all  that  time  to  get  your  screed  accomplished, 
and  I  shan't  show  till  it  is." 

"That's  nonsense,"  retorted  Dick.  "It'll  take  ten  min- 
utes at  most  \  and  if  you're  not  in  by  then  I'll  come  out 
and  join  you. — I  say,  Kittie,  where  the  deuce  is  the  ink?" 

"Fortunately,  ten  minutes  will  be  more  than  sufficient 
for  what  I  have  to  say,"  said  M'Kenzie,  as,  after  descend- 
ing to  the  beach  in  silence,  they  turned  an  angle  of  the 
cliff  which  shut  them  out  of  hearing  of  even  any  "little 
pitchers"  who  might  be  in  the  gardens  above.  "I've  no 
doubt  you  can  guess  what  it  is,  Mr.  Clive." 

"I  am  waiting  to  hear,"  said  Clive.  "But  if  you  mean 
I  guess  you  have  something  to  say,  you  are  more  than 
right.     I  hope  as  well  as  guess  it." 

His  tone  was  aggressive,  almost  insolent ;  and  M'Ken- 
zie's  hands,  clasped  behind  his  back,  tingled  and  clenched 
each  other  as  in  a  vice  before  he  replied. 

"  Your  manner  to  me  to-day  has  been  unpleasant  enough 
to  warrant  such  a  hope.  It  may  be  attributable  to  a 
young  man's  jealousy,  and  however  causeless  such  a  feel- 
ing in  the  present  case,  I  could  excuse  it  were  it  only  con- 
fined to  a  short  and  ungracious  manner — "    • 

"In  other  words,  you  would  carefully  avoid  taking 
hold  of  it  as  long  as  I  gave  you  nothing  to  take  hold  of," 
said  Clive,  slowly  and  calmly.  "  You  are  magnanimous, 
Mr.  M'Kenzie.  I'll  relieve  your  mind  of  one  scruple, 
however;  I  am  not  actuated  by  any  feelings  of  jealousy 
whatsoever.  To  say  I  was  not  aware  I  had  cause  for 
them,  would  be  rude  when  you  so  plainly  imply  the 
reverse;  so — I  don't  say  it." 

M'Kenzie's  eyes  flashed.  "I  believe  you  wish  to  insult 
me,"  he  said,  hotly.  "  You  have  thrown  out  more  than 
one  hint  and  insinuation  to-day  reflecting  either  on  my 
honor  or  general  character. — Stay,  sir!  let  me  speak.  I 
don't  believe  that  our  friends  have  understood  your  innu- 
endoes, but — " 

"I  agree  with  you,"  said  Clive.  "Wanting  the  clue 
which  yoii  possess,  they  have  not  even  perceived  the  in- 
nuendoes which  you  understood  and  complain  of" 


J'NET'jy  J//.V.V  BELLE II'. 


253 


"  Complain  I  You  mistake,  sir.  1  do  more  than  com- 
plain; 1  demand  an  explanation  on  your  part  for  the 
past,  and  an  apology  for  your  present  language.  Ex- 
cuses are,  1  see,  wasted  on  you." 

"Entirely,"  said  Clive,  "seeing  that  I  am  here  to 
force  the  explanation  •  only  it  is  to  come  from  you  as 
well  as  me.  Excuses !  Why,  confound  it !  I  think  you 
ought  to  be  grateful  to  me  for  having  led  you  to  speak 
to  me  yourself,  instead  of  saying  what  I  had  to  say  to 
our  friends  yonder.  Do  you  think  that  if  I  pleased  I 
couldn't  have  made  them  understand  the  drift  of  my 
discourse  as  well  or  better  than  yourself?  Dick  Bellew 
is  one  of  my  nearest  friends.  He  trusts  his  most  private 
affairs  to  me  as  to  an  elder  brother.  What  was  to  hinder 
me  from  speaking  to  him  about  withdrawing  his  sisters 
from  your  society,  and  giving  him  my  full  reasons  for 
such  a  caution  ?  Of  my  own  free  will  I  have  spoken  to 
you  instead ;  and  that  you  understood  me  at  all  is  the 
best  proof  of  the  justice  of  my  suspicions.  You  say  I 
have  been  uncivil  to  you ;  I  don't  deny  it.  You  want  i-W 
explanation  ?     Take  it. 

"  Four  years  ago,  before  I  entered  at  the  Bar,  1  had  oc- 
casion to  go  to  Canada.  I  arrived  at  S.  Louis-sur-Eaux, 
a  little  town  on  the  borders,  just  as  a  wedding  party 
was  leaving  the  church — Mr.  M'Kenzie,  you  grow  j^ale : 
do  I  interest  you  ? — I  did  not  see  the  bride's  face;  it  was 
looking  from  me  and  hidden  in  her  veil;  but  that  of  the 
bridegroom  was  turned  full  on  me,  and  though  I've  no 
doubt  he  never  noticed  my  presence,  I  could  have  sworn 
to  him  anywhere  in  aftertimes — I  could  swear  to  him 
now.  You,  sir,  and  no  other  man  !  I'wo  years  later  I 
again  crossed  the  Atlantic,  on  my  first  legal  business.  At 
the  bar  of  a  New  York  hotel  I  heard  a  certain  Mr.  I  al- 
ias M'Kenzie  spoken  of  as  an  eccentric  bachelor,  a 
woman-hater  and  misanthrope.  He  was  discussed  openly 
among  a  dozen  men,  and  as  openly  the  reason  of  h's 
avoidance  of  women  was  given  in  half-a-dozen  words- 
some  affair  with  a  lady !  Female  society  had  cut  Mr. 
M'Kenzie:  Mr.  M'Kenzie  had  revenged  himself  by  cut- 
ting it.  —  Stop  !       l^xcuse  me ;    you    asked   for  an   ex- 


254 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE W. 


planation,  I  have  only  given  you  part  of  one  as  yet.  I 
met  the  gentleman  in  question  at  a  men's  dinner-party.  We 
traveled  together  for  two  days  by  rail :  I  found  him  a 
pleasant  companion,  a  polished  gentleman ;  in  fact  I 
liked  him ;  bid  I  noticed  he  spoke  of  himself  as  a  bach- 
elor. If  marriage  were  discussed  he  joined  in  the  ques- 
tion simply  as  an  outsider,  and  to  inveigh  against  it ;  and 
/,  remembering  the  new-made  wife  I  had  seen  on  his  arm 
that  day  at  S.  Louis-sur-Eaux,  wondered  within  myself. 
Accident  solved  my  wonderment.  In  a  lawyer's  oftice  I 
happened  to  mention  my  late  traveling  companion  by 
name. 

"My  friend  nodded. 

"  '  M'Kenzie  !  H'm — ha — yes,  I've  met  him  ;  very 
pleasant  fellow,  superior  and — but  a  man  with  daughters 
and  all  that,  you  know,  must  be  careful.   You've  heard — ' 

"  I  said  I  had. 

"  'Ah !  that's  not  all  there  is  is  to  hear:  I  suppose  no 
one  ever  told  you  he  is  married  ?' 

"  I  said  I  was  aware  of  it. 

"  'In  Canada;  separated  from  his  wife  since,  I  believe, 
and  mixed  up  in  a  very  awkward  case  of  bigamy.  It  was 
hushed  up,  fortunately  for  him  ;  but  a  man  with  daughters, 
you  know — one  must  be  careful.' 

"  I  agreed  with  him.  Two  years  later  I  again  met  the 
gentleman  in  question,  this  time  in  England  and  at  a  ball 
at  General  de  Ponsonby's.  I  meet  him  often  now;  I  hear 
him  spoken  of  as  a  bachelor,  eligible  and  estimable  in  all 
respects;  I  find  him  domesticated  on  terms  of  the  great- 
est intimacy  with  the  sons  and  daughters  of  a  lady  who 
honors  me  with  her  friendship  and  confidence;  I  see  him 
winning  the  regard  of  a  young  girl  as  innocent  as  she  is 
inexperienced  ;  I  see  him  trading  upon  her  guileless  trust, 
flaunting  his  false  plumes,  and  acting — " 

"A  lie!  Do  you  hear  me?  A  foul,  cowardly,  slan- 
derous lie  from  beginning  to  end  !  /a  scoundrelly  big- 
amist !     /  a —     By  heavens,  how  you  dare — " 

M'Kenzie  got  no  further.  By  a  perfectly  frightful  effort 
at  self-control,  belied  by  his  white,  churning  lips  and  quiv- 
ering hands,  he  had  forced  himself  to  listen  for  a  given 


I'RE  TTY  MISS  BELLE  W.  255 

time.     Before  Clive  had  finished  that  coniiul  broke  down ; 
and  like  a  tiger  he  turned  upon  his  accuser  with  clenched 
fist  as  in  act  to  strike,  and  white,  infuriate  lips,  hurling  the 
fierce  invective  of  denial  at  the  latter's  head. 
That  denial  was  never  finished. 

The  tide  had  risen,  so  that  they  had  left  the  beach,  and 
were  pursuing  a  narrow  path  hewn  partly  by  nature,  partly 
by  the  hand   of  man,  out  of  the  face  of  the  cliff.     Be- 
low them,  at  the  distance  of  two  or  three  feet,  rippled  the 
purple  waters  of  the  Channel,  stretching  away    in    long 
waving  lines  of  ever-deepening  violet  to  the  horizon.    The 
sun  had  set,  and  the   two   men   and  the  water  were  in 
shadow  ;  but  over  the  horizon  tioated  one  long  cloud  like  a 
streak  of  blood,  and  all  the  eastern  sky  was  suffused  with 
a  faint  rosy  light;   while  far  above  their  heads  the  tower- 
ing cliffs  were  stained  with  a  crimson  glory  on  their  sum- 
mits— the  last  reflection   of  the  descended    orb  of  day. 
There  was  just  room   on  this  path  for  two  men  to  walk 
abreast   with  comfort.     Higher  up  it  narrowed,  and  be- 
came a  mere  thread  where  one  could  hardly  find  space  to 
set  his  foot,  but   here  was  room  for  both;  and  M'Kenzie 
.had  the  inside  and  was  slightly  in  advance.     In  that  burst 
of  fury  he  turned  with  a  kind  of  spring  on  Clive.     The 
latter  started   aside,  involuntarily  lifting  his  arm  to  avoid 
the  threatened  blow ;  and  without  word  or  touch,  by  the 
sheer  impetus   of  his  own  unthinking  passion,  M'Kenzie 
stumbled,  and  went  headlong  into  the  rising  waters  be- 
low 1 

One  sharp,  agonized  cry,  and  then — a  dead  silence; 
but  far,  far  overhead  a  gull  flew  past  with  a  long  wailing 
note,  as  if  to  carry  the  echo  of  tliat  cry  to  heaven ;  and 
into  the  holes  and  caverns  of  the  cliffs  the  waves  rushed 
with  a  solemn  thunderous  roll,  as  though  the  sea  were 
firing  a  funeral  salute  over  the  ex-ofiicer's  grave. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

"what  have  you  done  with  him  ?" 

LONG  ago  I  heard  a  woman  say  to  her  son,  in  a  fit  of 
irritation,  "  If  you  will  persist  in  going  out  of  doors 
bareheaded  in  a  tropical  country,  you  will  get  a  sun- 
stroke ;  and  really  I  shall  not  be  sorry,  for  I  am  sick  of 
warning  you." 

That  same  day  her  son  was  brought  home  to  her,  struck 
down  like  a  log  under  the  burning  noonday  sun.  Before 
another  morning  he  was  dead ;  and  I,  going  into  the 
darkened  room,  found  a  miserable,  maddened  woman, 
crouching  beside  the  corpse,  with  tearless  eyes  and 
parched,  chalky  lips,  which  murmured  over  and  over 
again  in  ceaseless  refrain  : 

*'  I  told  him  I  would  not  be  sorry — not  sorry — not  sorry. 
Yes,  I  told  him  so — that  I- — tvou/d — not — be — soiTy.^' 

They  brOught  her  home  afterwards — to  a  lunatic  asylum 
in  her  native  country.  I  believe  she  is  living  still,  a 
harmless  maniac,  ever  reciting  the  same  monotonous  lit- 
any of  despair. 

While  Clive  had  been  telling  his  story  to  M'Kenzie,  his 
acute  eye  had  noted  accurately  the  signs  of  fury  rising 
and  fermenting  in  the  latter's  breast.  Once,  when  the 
Canadian  attempted  to  interrupt  him,  the  thought  did 
cross  his  mind,  "  I  wish  we  were  on  terra  jit'ina,  for  this 
passionate  fellow  is  quite  capable  of  pitching  himself  or 
me  over  the  edge  if  he  is  worked  up ; "  and  again — 
"  Prevised  is  prevented  for  me.  Let  Jmii  take  a  cold  bath 
if  he  will :  it  will  cool  his  passion — /  shan't  prevent 
him." 

256 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE W. 


257 


Now,  five  minutes  later,  the  thought  had  come  to  pass, 
and  M'Kenzie  had  gone  face-foremost  into  the  purple 
curling  waves,  his  passion  cooled  in  one  stupendous 
splash. 

The  water  was  not  five  feet  deep  at  this  part,  and  to  a 
swimmer  would  but  have  been  the  "cold  bath"  Clive  had 
called  it.  That  M'Kenzie  could  swim  and  swim  well,  he 
happened  to  know  ;  and  after  the  first  start  and  gasp  of 
surprise  he  came  to  the  edge  of  the  path,  bending  over 
and  stretching  out  iiis  hands,  in  the  full  expectation  of 
seeing  M'Kenzie  rise  dripping  from  his  "douche,"  and 
of  hauling  him,  discomfited  and  humiliated,  on  to  dry 
land  again. 

He  was  disappointed. 

Up,  almost  to  touch  his  finger-tips,  leaped  the  waves, 
breaking  in  little  showers  of  foam  and  spray  against  the 
cliff.  He  could  see  the  brown  tangled  seaweed  floating 
like  a  mermaid's  web  beneath  their  glittering  surfoce"; 
.here  and  there  an  out-jutting  rock  standing  up  like 
the  fangs  of  some  deceased  sea-monster ;  a  dead  bird 
glidmg  swiftly  past,  the  bloody  hole  still  visible  on  its 
upturned  breast,  ere  it  was  whirled  out  to  sea  by  the 
l^owerful  current  sweeping  round  those  rocky  shores;  but 
— no  APKcnzie  !  If  the  gnomes  of  the  sea  had  dragged 
him  down  and  pinioned  him  within  their  twilight  palaces 
beneath,  there  could  not  have  been  less  sign  of  him  or 
his  existence. 

"Good  God!"  cried  Clive;  "the  man  must  have 
stunned  himself  against  the  bottom;"  and  only  waiting 
to  jerk  off  his  coat  and  boots,  without  thinking  of  danger 
to  himself,  or  of  his  late  animosity  to  the  missing  man — 
without  thought  of  anything,  in  fact,  excej)t  that  there 
was  something  to  be  done,  and  he  must  do  it,  he  swung 
himself  over  the  edge  of  the  path  into  the  waters  which 
had  gulfed  and  hidden  the  Canacban.  As  he  did  so,  his 
foot  struck  against  a  naked  hand  firmly  clenched  over  a 
sunken  rock,  dislodged  it  from  its  hold,  and  in  the  same 
moment  a  dark,  heavy  body,  with  outstretched  limbs  and 
black,  dripping  hair,  rose  heavily  to  the  surface,  amid  a 
perfect  whirlpool  of  bubbles  and  marine  debri.s.  The 
17 


2s8 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV, 


shock  almost  knocked  Clive  off  his  feet.  Had  it  quite 
done  so,  the  sea-gulls  might  have  sung,  Rcquiescat  in  pace, 
over  both  of  them  ;  for  as  to  swimming,  the  clever  lawyer 
could  do  about  as  much  of  that  as  most  inland-reared 
young  fellows,  or — twelve-inch  shot !  By  a  desperate 
effort  he  recovered  himself,  and  in  the  same  moment 
made  a  clutch  at  M'Kenzie,  who,  opening  his  great  black 
eyes  with  a  glare  of  returning  consciousness  as  the  cold 
breeze  smote  upon  his  face,  caught  at  the  outstretched 
hand,  and  fastened  on  it  with  a  grip  which  threatened  to 
drag  both  men  to  the  bottom. 

"Hold  hard,  if  you  please,"  said  Clive.  He  spoke 
quite  coolly,  though  it  was  only  by  an  almost  superhuman 
effort  of  masculine  strength  that  he  could  keep  his  foot- 
ing against  the  current  alone,  and  this  frenzied  clutch 
threatened  to  shake  him  off  it  altogether.  "You're  all 
right.  Put  your  feet  down  instead  of  your  head,  that's 
all." 

"Save  me!"  cried  M'Kenzie,  faintly.  His  head  waa 
bleeding  from  a  cut  above  the  temple,  and  his  grasp 
loosened  from  weakness  and  bewilderment. 

Clive  took  advantage  of  it  to  wrest  his  arm  free,  and 
in  the  same  instant  caught  a  firm  hold  of  his  antagonist's 
collar,  while  with  the  other  hand  he  braced  himself 
against  a  protruding  fang  of  rock.  To  move  thus  im- 
peded, and  with  the  water  up  to  his  breast,  was  im- 
possible. It  required  all  his  strength  to  hold  M'Kenzie's 
head  above  the  waves,  until  the  latter  was  sufficiently 
recovered  from  his  second  attack  of  faintness  to  recog- 
nize where  he  was,  and  be  able  to  assist  himself  When 
that  was  achieved,  the  rest  was  easy.  With  one  stroke 
of  his  arm,  the  Canadian  was  under  the  lee  of  the  cliff 
not  three  yards  distant,  and  in  another  minute  had 
scrambled — half-drowned,  with  the  blood  oozing  from 
his  forehead  and  mingling  with  the  sea-watei  on  his  face 
in  purple  streaks,  but  otherwise  uninjured — on  to  the 
path  whence  his  passion  had  hurled  him  down.  Clive 
tried  to  follow,  but  that  last  powerful  strain  had  done 
for  his  strong  right  wrist  for  the  present.  His  first  effort 
to  grasp  the  cliff  to  which  he  had  floundered  wrung  from 


PRETTY  AIISS  BELLEVV. 


=59 


him  an  involuntary  cry  of  pain ;  and  yet  it  did  not  hurt 
him  half  as  much  as  the  necessity  of  letting  his  rival  help 
him  up.  That  turned  his  lips  white,  and  made  him 
wince  as  no  physical  torture  could  have  ever  done. 

M'Kenzie,  however,  guessed  nothing  of  the  feeling. 
Equally  iini)ulsive  in  his  gratitude  as  in  his  anger,  he 
would,  had  he  been  a  Frenclirnan,  have  flung  himself 
into  dive's  arms,  and  hugged  him  in  a  transport  of 
emotion.  Being  an  Anglo-Saxon,  he  spared  Clive  that 
demonstration,  and,  instead,  inflicted  on  his  left  hand 
(the  only  available  one)  a  grip  to  which  his  drowning 
clutch  had  been  but  child's  play. 

"You  have  saved  my  life,"  he  said,  hoarsely.  "How 
can  I  ever  thank  you  enough  ?  " 

"Pray  don't  try,"  said  Clive,  looking  away  from  the 
earnest  eyes,  and  releasing  his  hand  as  quickly  as  he 
could.     "  You've  no  cause  for  thanks,  I  assure  you." 

"Not  when  you  jumped  in  and  hauled  me  out  when  I 
was  disabled  from  helping  myself?  Why,  my  flear  fellow, 
I  might  have  been  drowned  but  for  you.  I  suppose  I  hit 
my  head  against  one  of  those  confounded  rocks,  for — 
Good  God !  if  you  hadn't  helped  me,  where  should  I 
have  been  now?" 

"At  the  bottom,"  interrupted  Clive,  almost  rudely. 
"Excuse  me  if  I  don't  join  in  your  rejoicings.  As  I 
happened  to  be  on  the  spot,  1  was  com])elled  to  remem- 
ber that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  being  accessory  to 
another  man's  death,  without  actually  assisting  him  to  it. 
Believe  me" — and  he  spoke  with  a  savage  earnestness 
which  disdained  pretense — "if  I  could  have  chosen,  fate 
would  have  planted  me  twenty  miles  off,  and  savetl  Kate 
Bellew  from  the  intrigues  of  a — " 

"  Blackguard  !  "  suggested  M'Kenzie,  as  Clive  broke  off 
with  a  shrug  of  his  broad  shoulders,  and  began  pulling 
on  his  coat. 

The  Canadian  did  not  speak  angrily.  A  furrow  of 
pain  and  natural  mortification  jiad  come  upon  his  brow 
at  this  second  repulse,  more  churlish  than  the  last;  but 
wrath  was  not  to  be  aroused  a  second  time  that  evening. 
Do  you  not  think  that  angry  tongue  of  the  second  Hcnr)' 


2  6o  PRE  TT  y  MISS  BELL  E IV. 

was  slow  and  careful  for  many  a  day  after  the  blood  shed 
before  the  high  altar  of  the  cathedral  at  Canterbury  had 
ceased  to  redden  the  marble  steps,  and  the  corpse  of  the 
murdered  archbishop  had  been  carried  away  out  of  sight 
of  friend  and  enemy  alike  ?  M'Kenzie  went  up  to  the 
barrister,  and  laid  his  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"You  think  me  that,  and  worse?"  he  said.  "Has 
your  legal  experience  never  taught  you  that  before  decid- 
ing on  a  case  you  should  hear  both  sides  of  it  ?  Look 
here,  Clive  " — and  though  he  smiled,  there  was  an  echo 
of  past  pain  and  sorrow  in  his  voice,  which  touched  his 
rival  in  spite  of  himself — "you  have  given  me  the  outlines 
of  a  story  which  any  man  might  resent  to  hear  told  in  con- 
nection with  himself  Do  you  wa/if  to  hear  the  true  one  ? 
Twenty  minutes  ago  my  pride  was  up,  and  I  wouldn't 
have  told  it  you,  first  because  you  nor  any  other  man  has 
a  shadow  of  right  to  ask  it  from  me ;  and  next  because, 
if  you  had  had  the  right,  I  would  not  have  owned  it 
when  claimed  in  such  a  tone;  but  since  then  you've 
risked  your  life  to  save  another's,  and  that  other's  a  man 
you  disliked  and  despised.  Confound  it,  Clive  !  Can't  you 
see  that,  however  _>w^  repudiate  his  gratitude,  /le  must 
feel  that  you've  done  a  better  thing  than  if  he  were  a 
friend  of  yours  ?  I  never  thought  to  speak  of  that  which 
has  darkened  my  whole  life  to  any  living  being,  man  or 
woman.  Don't  you  know  yourself  that  you'd  rather  cut 
your  heart  out  than  tell  some  things  to  your  nearest  and 
dearest  friend?  You  are  no  friend  of  mine;  but  I'm  go- 
ing to  tell  you  now  ;  and  when  we  get  to  the  hotel  I'll 
show  you  full  proof  of  the  truth  of  my  words.  Only" — - 
and  here  the  pain  in  his  voice  deepened  till  it  grew  so 
hoarse  as  to  be  hardly  intelligible — "when  I've  told  you 
my  story,  don't  say  anything.  You  can't  do  me  justice 
without  speaking  of — of  other  people.     Don't  do  it." 

Clive  was  sitting  on  a  hummock  of  sandy  earth,  pulling 
on  his  boots  over  his  wet  feet.  He  looked  up  keenly 
and  quickly  into  the  dq,rk  Southern  face,  which  even 
through  sea-water,  blood-stains,  and  agitation  showed  so 
handsome  and  earnest;  and  as  he  did  so  an  uncomfort- 
able sense  of  being  in  the  wrong,  of  having  allowed  prej- 


PRE  TTY  MISS  BELLE  IV.  261 

udice  to  make  him  insolent  and  unjust,  began  to  dawn 
upon  his  unwilhng  mind.  Indeed  I  think  it  was  this 
very  rehictance  to  accept  the  suggestion,  which  showed 
him  that  in  truth  he  would  have  preferred  to  find  M'Ken- 
zie  the  scoundrel  he  believed  him,  that  though  he  asked 
for  an  explanation,  it  was  the  least  thing  he  desired;  for 
when  he  spoke  it  was  sharply  and  hurriedly,  as  if  to  get 
the  better  of  his  smaller  self  before  it  got  the  better  of 
him. 

A  great  man  once  said,  "It  is  only  a  coward  who  can 
boast  he  has  never  been  afraid."  An  honorable  man  is 
generally  more  conscious  of  his  deceitfulness  than  a  knave. 

"Keep  your  story  to  yourself,"  he  said,  almost  roughly, 
"/have  no  right  to  hear  it,  as  you  say;  and  I  don't  want 
to  hear  it,  if  I  had." 

M'Kenzie  smiled  a  little  bitterly. 

"That  is  all  very  well,"  he  said,  "but,  my  dear  fellow, 
excuse  me — after  what  you've  said,  the  matter  can  hardly 
rest  here — with  honor." 

"  I  know  that,"  said  Clive,  shortly,  as  he  rose  to  his  feet, 
"and  that's  why  I  ask  you  to  give  mc  your  word  as  a 
gentleman  that  there  is  no  truth  whatever  in  these  im})u- 
tations  against  your  honor.      Can  you  do  it.^" 

"By  heavens,  yes  !  Truth  in  them  I  They  are  the  foul- 
est lies." 

"Then—excuse  my  pressing  you,  1  only  want  Yes  or 
No — there  is  nothing,  on  your  word  and  honor,  against 
you  which  need  prevent  your  going  up  in  all  honesty  to 
any  lady  (we  won't  mention  names),  and  asking  her  for 
her  daugiiter's  hand  ?  " 

"  On  my  word  of  honor,  nothing." 

Clive  turned  round.  There  was  a  pale  set  look  in  his 
face. 

"That  will  do,"  he  said.  "I  am  satisfied "  (but  he 
didn't  look  it).  "  and  apologize :  though — " 

"  Go  on,"  said  M'Kenzie,  quietly.  "  You  are  w/ satis- 
fied, and  I  can  see  it.     Go  on." 

"Well,  if  I'm  not,"  Clive  answered,  bluntly,  "  it's  just 
this;  I  meet  you  here  as  a  bachelor  disclaiming  all  con- 
nection with  family  ties;  and  yet  when  I  first  saw  you  it 
was  most  certainly  with — " 


262  PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 

"My  wife!"  said  M'Kenzie.  He  spoke  firmly:  but 
that  it  was  difficult  for  him  to  speak  at  all  was  evident. 
"  Mr.  Clive,  when  a  man  has  lost  something  which  was 
more  precious  to  him  than  his  own  life,  he  is  not  fond  of 
talking  of  it.  You  are  right.  I  had  a  wife — once.  I 
have  nothing  now  but  a  memory — she  is  dead." 

Clive  turned  to  him  abruptly,  and  held  out  his  hand, 
the  best  part  of  his  nature  touched  to  kindness  and  gen- 
erosity. 

"Forgive  me,"  he  said,  his  voice  softening  for  the  first 
time — "and  thank  you.  I  won't  ask  any  more.  I'd  no 
right  to  ask  that,  but —  Ah,  well !  I've  been  in  the  wrong 
all  through;  and  all  I  can  do  is  to  repair  it.  There's  this 
comfort  for  you,"  and  he  tried  to  speak  cordially  and 
gladly,  "she — they,  I  mean — never  shared  my  suspicions 
down  there;  and  if  I've  done  you  harm  with  Dick  by 
any  hint  or  warning,  I'll  undo  it  before  to-night  is  over." 

M'Kenzie  saw  through  his- late  opponent  at  that  mo- 
ment, and  he  felt  half  amused  and  half  sorry  for  the 
young  fellow  who  was  trying  to  make  the  amende  honorable 
to  him.  They  had  turned  homewards,  and  were 
walking  swiftly  under  the  shadow  of  the  cliff,  so  as  to 
keep  warm  in  their  drenched  garments.  The  red  stain 
nad  faded  out  of  the  sky,  and  off  the  downs.  No  hu- 
man being  was  in  sight,  no  sound  but  the  roll  of  the 
waves  smote  upon  the  ear.  Only  out  at  sea  a  long  line 
of  fishing-boats  dotted  the  horizon ;  and  twilight,  soft, 
gray,  and  shadowy,  hung  over  all,  like  the  veil  of  a  young 
widow  over  a  face  from  which  the  sunshine  of  happiness 
has  been  banished  for  a  time.  M'Kenzie  laid  his  hand 
on  his  companion's  arm. 

"  I  think  there  is  no  necessity  for  you  to  say  anything," 
he  said,  good-naturedly.  "  If  our  friends  didn't  share 
your  mistake,  what  need  for  enlightening  them  ?  And  as 
for  Miss  Bellew— " 

"Pray  don't  say  anything  about  her,"  Clive  interrupted, 
hastily.  "  Her  name  should  never  have  been  mentioned 
at  all.  Bad  form  on  my  part ;  and  I'm  awfully  sorry  for 
it;  but  I  know  her — all  of  them,  better  than  you,  and 
when  I  thought  you  were  deceiving  her — then — " 


PRETfY  MISS  BELLE IV.  263 

"You  came  to  the  rescue,  like  a  knight  of  chivalry," 
said  M'Kenzie,  smiling.  "Well,  my  dear  fellow,  I  quite 
agree  with  you  that,  in  general,  young  ladies'  names  are 
best  left  unmeddlcd  with,  either  for  attack  or  defense ; 
but  as  it  has  been  done  on  this  occasion,  we  may  as  well 
not  leave  the  subject  unfinished.  Vou  think  that  I  am  in 
love  with  Miss  Bellew,  and  that  I'm  doing  my  best,  not 
without  success,  to  make  her  in  love  with  me,  eh  ?  " 

Clive  bit  his  lip.  He  had  wronged  the  Canadian,  and 
repented  of  his  wrong;  but  he  never  felt  nearer  to  hating 
him  than  at  that  moment. 

"I  don't  think  that  you  are  in  love  with  her — now,"  he 
said,  in  his  harshest  voice.  "If  you  had  been,  you  could 
never  have  said  that." 

"You  are  quite  right,"  M'Kenzie  answered,  good-hu- 
moredly.  "And  now  that  1  have  been  so  frank  with  you, 
be  the  same  with  me.  If  I  am  not  in  love  with  her,  vou 
are.     Am  I  not  right  also?" 

Clive  bit  his  lip  again.  There  was  a  slight  inflection  of 
amusement  in  the  other's  voice,  which  stung  through  all 
his  reserve  like  the  barb  of  a  poisoned  arrow.  Not  to 
reply,  however,  would  have  been  only  a  more  humiliating 
form  of  assent;  and  denial  never  came  into  his  head.  It 
is  strange,  but  with  some  men  truth,  even  on  the  subject 
of  love,  seems  more  natural  than  a  lie ! 

"What  if  you  are?"  he  said,  curtly.  "I've  been  a 
fool,  I  own  it;  but  at  least  I've  not  prosecuted  my  folly 
lo  any  one's  harm  but  my  own." 

"I  don't  think  you  have,"  said  M'Kenzie.  "It  seems 
to  me,  though,  that  the  folly  lies,  not  in  loving  Miss  Bel- 
lew  (who  is  a  very  sweet,  lovable  little  girl),  but  in  not 
prosecuting  your  love.  My  dear  fellow,  I  owe  you  a 
debt.  Let  me  pay  it  by  relieving  your  mind.  I  am 
not  your  rival,  as  you  think.  I  neither  wish  to  marry 
Miss  Bellew,  nor  have  I  tried  to  win  her  affections.  Were 
I  still  a  married  man"  (and  he  sighed),  "I  could  not  be 
more  innocent  on  that  subject,  and  I  haven't  the  least 
reason  to  sujjpose  that  she  is  any  less  so.  So  far  from 
caring  for  mc  in  that  way,  I  fancy  she  is  as  yet  free  from 
all  thouglit  of  love  or  lovers.     Indeed,  to  me,  one  of  her 


2  64  P^^  ^^  y  ^//6-5  BELLE  VV. 

greatest  charms  is  that  frank,  childhke — I  Avas  almost  say- 
ing boyish  innocence.  It  seems  a  pity  to  disturb  it  at  all; 
but  if  you  love  her,  as  I  see  you  do,  why  may  not  she 
see  it  also;  and  why  don't  you  tell  her  so  ?" 

"Tell  her!"  repeated  Clive,  in  a  sort  of  dismay.  He 
was  still  bewildered  at  this  second  enlightenment.  It  did 
iiot  seem  credible  (though  he  had  been  so  unwilling  to 
admit  his  own  love  even  to  himself)  that  another  man 
should  be  thrown  with  Kate,  as  M'Kenzie  had  been,  and 
not  care  for  her :  a  man,  too,  to  whom  she  had  shown  such 
sweet  favor  as  to  the  Canadian  !  and  then  he  remembered 
the  blush  she  had  given  the  former  that  morning,  with  a 
fresh  sick  feeling  of  pain, 

"Not  quite  such  a  fool,  foolish  as  I  am !"  he  repeated, 
bitterly. 

"But,  my  dear  Clive — excuse  my  calling  you  so,"  said 
M'Kenzie,  laughing — "it  seems  to  me  that  you  are  rather 
foolish  in  this.  How  can  you  tell  whether  she  likes  you 
or  not  unless  you  ask  her  ?  Take  the  advice  of  a  man 
a  good  deal  older  than  yourself,  and  let  her  see  a  little  of 
your  feelings.  Girls  like  to  be  courted.  It  is  their 
prerogative  to  be  served  then,  as  it's  their  duty  to  serve 
us  afterwards ;  and  you  rather  seem  to  avoid  her  than 
otherwise." 

"You've  thought  so,  have  you?"  said  Clive.  "Then 
give  me  credit  for  non-interference." 

"What,  when  I've  told  you  there  is  no  interference  in 
the  case !  I  like  the  little  girl  much — very  much.  She 
is  quite  charming;  but  as  to  the  idea  you  suggest,  it  is  all 
nonsense.  That  sort  of  thing  has  been  over  with  me  for 
many  a  year." 

"  Perhaps  every  one  is  not  as  well  aware  of  that  as 
you,"  suggested  Clive.  Very  undemonstrative  himself, 
he  had  looked  on  M'Kenzie's  confidential,  almost  caress- 
ing manner  with  women  as  rather  prononce  love-making. 
The  latter  broke  into  a  laugh  half  sad,  half  merry : 

"I  think  most  women  have  a  sort  of  instinct  on  that 
subject,"  he  said.  "They  know  when  they  are  loved,  at 
any  rate.  We  don't;  that's  why  we  have  to  ask  them. 
Take  my  advice  now,  and  ask  her.     As  for  me — look 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW.  265 

here — I  shan't  even  see  her  again.  I've  no  change  of 
clothes  with  me,  and  I  don't  want  to  get  a  rheumatic 
fever  from  wearing  these  wet  ones;  so  I  shall  just  go  to 
bed  while  they're  drying,  and  you  can  take  my  excuses 
round  to  the  cottage  for  me.  I  shall  send  them  a  line  iiv 
the  morning  to  say  I  am  summoned  up  to  London  on 
important  business,  and  that  I  left  you  to  bring  George 
up  later.  You  won't  mind  looking  after  the  little  chap, 
will  you  ?  He'll  lean  his  head  and  arms  out  as  far  as  he 
can  in  every  tunnel,  and  try  to  jumj)  out  ten  minutes  be- 
fore the  train  stops  at  every  station,  and  drum  the  devil's 
tattoo  on  your  feet  for  the  rest  of  the  way  ;  but  perhaps 
you'll  have  a  brother's  right  to  keep  him  in  order  by 
then.  Deuce  take  it,  Clive  !  I'm  not  at  all  sure  the  bonny 
little  lassie  doesn't  like  you  more  than  you  fancy,  for  the 
very  reason  that  she's  so  confoundedly  careful  to  hide  it." 

"I  thought  you  considered  her  so  childishly  innocent," 
said  Clive;  but  his  heart  would  brighten  in  spite  of  him- 
self, and  the  stern  mouth  softened  into  a  smile.  "  M'Ken- 
zie — I  hope  this  isn't  generosity  on  your  part." 

"Generosity!  My  dear  fellow,  I  don't  jjretend  to  be 
over-virtuous;  and  if  I  were  in  love  with  Katie  Bellew, 
neither  you  nor  any  other  man  should  have  the  ghost  of 
a  chance  from  vie  till  I  had  tried  my  own  fate  and — failed. 
As  to  childishness  I  have  you  forgotten  Shakespeare's 
Beatrice?" 

'■Certainly  not,"  said  Clive,  coolly,  "only  Beatrice  was 
never  a  favorite  of  mine,     /admire  Hero." 

"So  did  Benedict,  I  believe,"  answered  M'Kenzie. 
"He  admired  Hero  and — loved  Beatrice.  I've  no  doubt 
she  made  him  a  very  happy  husband  afterwards,  for  all 
her  little  ways." 

"I've  no  doubt  he  gave  her  a  jolly  good  thrashing 
afterwards  if  she  didn't  amend  her  little  ways,"  said 
Clive,  grimly.  "Don't  compare  Kate  Bellew  to  that 
incarnation  of  feminine  perversity.  She's  not  as  bad 
as  all  that." 

"1  don't  think  she's  bad  at  all,"  said  M'Kenzie,  laugh- 
ing. "Upon  my  word,  you  young  Englishmen  make 
the  oddest  lovers  going.     You  begin  by  criticising  and 


266  PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 

end  by  worshiping.  We,  across  the  Atlantic,  begin  by 
worshiping  and  end  by  criticism. — Ha!  here  we  are  at 
the  inn.  Now,  I'm  going  to  have  a  stiff  glass  of  hot 
brandy  and  water,  and  go  to  bed.  Let  me  recommend 
<he  former  to  you  before  going  up  to  the  cottage;  r.nd 
don't  ask  me  to  congratulate  you  till  to-morrow.  I  shall 
be  asleep  before  you  come  back." 

Clive  nodded. 

"  I  won't  wake  you.  Good  night,  and  thanks,"  he 
said,  turning  away  in  his  short  manner,  and  going  into 
his  own  room.  M'Kenzie  looked  after  him  for  a  mo- 
ment, a  slight,  kindly  smile  lurking  under  his  moustache. 

"  Poor  fellow !  I'm  afraid  he  has  not  much  chance," 
he  said  to  himself,  as  he  too  retired  within  his  own  door, 
and  locked  it;  '-but  at  least  he'll  feel  better  if  he  tries. 
Those  cursed  scandal-mongers!  So  that  accounts  for  liis 
rudeness  and  insinuations,  even  without  the  other.  By 
Jove,  what  an  idea!  That  she  should  care  for  me — that 
pretty  little  girl,  a  mere  child  compared  to  myself!  Bah  ! 
I  won't  believe  it.  I  can't  believe  it.  It's  just  a  lover's 
jealous  fancy;  and  even  if  it  were  true — if  it  could  be — 
I  could  never — "  He  paused,  an  uncertain  look  in  his 
eyes,  a  feverish  glow  on  his  dark  face,  and  unlocking 
a  small  ebony  box,  bound  together  with  silver  clamps, 
which  stood  on  the  table  near  his  bed,  took  from  it  a 
miniature  in  an  oval  velvet  case. 

"Averii!  Averil!"  he  repeated,  letting  his  face  droop 
upon  the  fair  face  held  between  those  quivering  palms. 
"  My  only  love,  my  wife — ay,  for  one  hour  at  least,  my 
wife.  You  may  have  been  unworthy,  but  there  was  none 
ever  like  you.  How  could  I  give  you  a  rival  in  the  heart 
you  filled  once  and — broke  !  " 

And  there  his  voice  failed,  and  he  fell  to  kissing  the 
painted  lips,  which  could  give  back  no  response,  till  the 
image  of  the  face  he  should  never  see  again  drove  out  the 
face  he  had  so  lately  seen,  and  the  temptation  suggested 
by  Clive's  over-anxiety  was  forgotten  in  fresh  vows  of 
fidelity  to  the  old,  too  faithful  past. 

It  did  not  take  Clive  long  to  change  his  clothes,  even 
though  he  had  but  one  hand  to  do  it  with.     He  ha  i  no 


PRE TTY  MISS  BELLE  W.  267 

past  to  look  back  on ;  and  cool  as  he  might  be  in  all  out- 
ward seeming,  it  was  not  in  the  nature  of  a  young  fellow, 
with  any  blood  in  his  veins  at  all,  to  go  through  an  hour 
such  as  that  which  had  just  ticked  out  its  last  minutes  on 
the  old  church-clock,  and  not  feel  its  excitement  still 
seething  in  his  brain,  and  making  every  pulse  in  his  body 
quiver  with  latent  fire.  The  man  whom  he  had  thought 
a  scoundrel  had  satisfied  him  that  he  was  equally  to  be 
respected,  and  more  to  be  pitied  than  himself:  a  gentle- 
man against  whom  he  had  no  right  to  warn  any  one;  and 
who  was  as  free  to  woo  and  win  Kate  BcUew  as  he,  Ber- 
nard Clive,  if  he  so  pleased.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  it 
appeared  that  he  did  not  so  please,  that  so  far  from  being 
Clive's  rival  he  was  anxious  to  be  his  friend,  and  to  aid 
him  in  his  suit.  Two  enemies  had  struggled  together  for 
life  or  death,  and  grown  friends  in  the  strife.  A  duel  had 
been  fought,  and  either  party  had  been  at  once  victor  and 
vanquished.  An  ajiparently  insurmountable  barrier  to  his 
love  had  proved  the  veriest  cobweb  of  imagination ;  and 
— it  had  all  happened  in  an  hour  !  Little  wonder  that  he 
bungled  hurriedly  over  his  dressing,  and  only  waiting  to 
oind  a  wet  handkerchief  round  his  now  stift"  and  swollen 
wrist,  set  out  for  the  cottage. 

M'Kenzie  had  seen  through  the  love  wliich  he  had 
hardly  admitted  to  himself,  had  implied  that  Kate  saw 
through  it  too,  and  laughed  at  him  for  faint-heartedness. 
That  accusation  at  least  they  should  be  mistaken  in.  He 
might  be  a  fool,  but  at  least  he  was  no  coward ;  and  per- 
haps after  all  Katie  might  care  for  him  a  little. 

It  had  come  on  to  rain  and  blow;  but  he  did  not 
heed  it  as  he  strode  along  tiie  steep,  dusky  street,  and 
finding  the  cottage-door  hospitably  open  (as  was  the  wont 
in  Combe  Regis)  passed  into  the  passage,  and  knocked  at 
the  parlor-door  within.  A  voice  from  inside — Kate's,  but 
sounding  unlike  her  usual  tone — answered,  "Come  in;" 
and  Clive  tried  to  obey.  He  had  forgotten,  however, 
that  his  right  liand  was  useless,  and  was  making  a  second 
bungling  attempt  to  turn  tlie  handle  with  his  left,  when  it 
was  suddenly  wrenched  round  from  inside,  and  Kate 
stood  in  the  open  doorway  before  him.     There  was  no 


268  PRE TTY  MISS  BELLE  W. 

one  else  in  the  room;  and  the  candles  had  not  yet  been 
lighted ;  but  as  she  stood  there,  framed  in  the  dark  door- 
way, and  cut  out  as  it  were  against  a  background  of  red 
firelight,  with  her  thick  curly  hair  tinged  with  red  upon 
the  crown,  and  faint  red  retlections  among  the  shimmery 
folds  of  her  white  muslin,  he  saw  that  her  face  was  deadly 
pale,  and  her  glance  rested  on  him  with  an  expression  of 
repulsion  more  intense  than  he  had  ever  seen  in  any  hu- 
man face  before. 

"K'//;/"  she  said,  in  a  sort  of  whisper,  more  expres- 
sive of  deadly,  sickening  terror  than  even  a  shriek  could 
be — '-and  alone!''''  Her  eyes  went  out  into  the  dark 
passage  as  she  spoke,  as  if  in  search  of  something,  and 
then  fixed  themselves  on  Clive  in  almost  fierce  appeal. 

"Where  is  Mr.  M'Kenzie?"  she  asked — "Mr.  Clive, 
what  have  you  done  with  him?"  and  involuntarily  she 
put  out  her  hand  and  laid  it,  with  a  grasp  wonderfully  pow- 
erful for  such  baby-fingers,  on  Clive's  arm. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

UNDER    A    MISTAKE. 

WHEN  Clive  and  M'Kenzie  got  up  to  go  and  smoke 
their  cigars  on  the  beach,  Kate  remained  sitting 
where  they  had  left  her,  with  a  perfectly  causeless  panic 
of  alarm  and  anxiety  fluttering  at  her  heart.  Beneath 
those  stray  and  apparently  meaningless  words  which  had 
passed  between  the  two  men,  she  could  not  help  fancy- 
ing that  she  detected  a  secret  and  threatening  intelligence. 
That  Clive  had  some  reason  for  disliking  the  e.x-officer  of 
Engineers  she  knew,  from  himself;  that  the  latter  had 
strong  and  easily  roused  passions  she  knew — also  from 
himself.  She  had  seen  their  eyes  meet  before  they  turned 
to  her  with  made,  company  smiles ;  and  there  was  no 
love  in  the  gaze,  but  steady,  inimical  defiance;  and 
Katie's  heart  died  within  her  at  the  sight.  It  was  very, 
very  silly,  it  was  unladylike,  improper;  but — oh!  if  only 
she  had  //c"/ been  a  lady,  if  for  one  little  moment  she  had 
not  been  proper,  or  civilized,  or  a  well-bred,  conventional, 
and  feminine  member  of  the  nineteenth  century  "upper 
ten,"  that  she  might  have  jumped  up,  and  said  to  M'Ken- 
zie: 

"  Let  me  go  with  you.  I  am  not  tired.  I  don't  mind 
smoke;  and  I  would  rather  put  up  with  any  amount  of 
fatigue  and  cigars  than,  by  leaving  you  together,  give  Mr. 
Clive  an  opportunity  of  provoking  and  quarreling  with 
you." 

But  M'Kenzie  ?  Was  it  only  him  then  of  whom  she 
was  thinking?     Was  it  care  for  him  which  made  her  so 

269 


270 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 


childishly  nervous  ?  She  had  not  put  her  feelings  into 
words  as  I  have  done.  Probably,  if  told  to  her,  she 
would  not  have  realized  or  acknowledged  them ;  but  she 
did  realize  enough  to  cover  her  cheeks  with  blushes,  and 
tie  her  tongue,  when  Dick  looked  up  from  his  writing  and 
asked  her  what  she  was  fidgeting  about.  He  couldn't 
think  of  what  he  wanted  to  say,  with  a  person  getting  up 
and  sitting  down  again  every  second  in  that  stupid 
fashion.  Wasn't  she  going  to  church  with  the  children  ? 
There  was  plenty  of  time,  and  he  really  must  be  left  in 
peace;  for  Clive  (always  Clive,  Kate  thought)  would  be 
in  no  end  of  a  wax  if  the  letter  wasn't  written.  Kate 
didn't  think  there  was  time;  but  she  sent  oft"  George  and 
Madge  (somewhat  against  their  wills)  in  charge  of  the 
maid,  and  she  conveyed  little  Dottie  upstairs,  and  put 
her  to  bed  herself,  making  many  mistakes  over  so  doing, 
and  greatly  surprising  her  tiny  sister  by  her  lamentable 
ignorance  of  nursery  details. 

"Go's  not  untied  my  twings,"  said  Dottie,  after  a  pain- 
ful effort  to  wriggle  out  of  some  of  her  under-garments  at 
Kate's  bidding.  "  Me  tan't  tate  'em  off  when  zey's  not 
untied.  Oh  I  oh-h-h  !  Katie,  me's  'calded — me's  twite 
boilin'  'calded,"  as  Kate,  having  finished  the  disrobing, 
lifted  the  small  woman  somewhat  too  promptly  into  a 
bath  of  unpleasantly  hot  water.  '"Martin  al'ays  puts  told 
water  in  till  my  finner  lites  it,"  Dottie  whimj)ered,  liolding 
a  very  small  finger  and  a  very  scarlet  foot  as  high  in  the  air 
as  was  consistent  with  eqailibiium ;  and  then  Kate  kissed 
the  fat  little  foot,  and  apologized — "She  had  not  been 
thinking  of  the  water." 

Ah  !  Katie,  what  were  you  thinking  of?  And  that  was 
not  the  last  of  the  mistakes,  either. 

"  Go's  puttin'  soap  in  mine  eyes,"  said  Dottie,  presently. 
"Gh-h-h  !  Katie  I  nurse  Jieffer  'ponges  mine  head  till  de 
last.  Me  don't  lite  the  lickle  dwops  all  twickling  down 
on  me." 

And  then  Katie  had  to  apologize  again. 

"But  you  know,  Dottie,  I  never  ])ut  you  to  bed  before," 
she  said,  meekly ;  and  Dottie  straightway  invited  her  to 
come  up  to  the  nursery  instead  of  going  in  for  late  din- 
ners at  home,  and  see  nurse  do  it  "pwoperly." 


PRE  TTY  MISS  BELLE  IV.  271 

Kate  was  i-ery  submissive  and  good-tempered,  taking 
great  pains,  and  freely  acknowledging  her  short-comings  : 
but  when  the  ceremony  was  over,  and  Dottie,  being  at 
last  ensconced  in  bed,  lifted  a  small  rosy  face  out  of  a 
nest  of  pillows,  and  demanded  "a  nice  'tory — a  ticnie  one, 
Katie,  tarling — all  about  Jack  an'  de  bean-chalk,"  Miss 
Bellew  struck  work  and  rebelled. 

"  I  can't  tell  you  a  story  to-night,  Dottie,"  she  said ; 
"  I'm  tired.  There !  go  to  sleep  like  a  good  child.  Good 
night ;"  and  dropping  a  hasty  kiss  on  the  beseeching  little 
mouth,  went  away  unheeding. 

Don't  be  too  hard  on  her,  dear  Christian  friends  who 
read  this.  She  was  very  young — only  nineteen — a  spoiled 
child,  just  falling  innocently  in  love  for  the  first  time  in 
her  life,  and  too  unconscious  of  the  nature  of  her  own 
feelings  to  be  able  to  get  the  mastery  of  them.  She  felt 
disturbed  and  anxious,  but  she  did  not  exactly  know  why, 
or  whether  it  were  right  or  wrong  to  encourage  her 
anxiety;  and  she  wanted  to  be  alone,  that  she  might 
think,  but  about  what  she  could  not  have  told  either; 
only,  of  course,  thinking  was  quite  right  and  proper,  es- 
pecially on  a  Sunday;  and  being  anxious  lest  two  friends 
should  quarrel  was  also  right,  and  indeed  a  very  Christian 
and  moral  feeling,  far  superior  to  story-telling;  but  she 
did  not  even  argue  the  matter  so  far  within  herself  The 
feeling  and  the  wish  were  on  her,  and  she  gratified  them 
unquestioningly,  as  she  was  used  to  gratifying  her  little 
girlish  fancies,  or  to  seeing  them  gratified  by  those  be- 
longing to  her — the  '-divine  rights"  of  the  eldest  in  the 
Bellew  household  being  a  position  alike  sacred  and  un- 
disputed. 

Kate  did  not  go  into  the  parior,  where  the  "scratch, 
scratch"  of  Dick's  pen,  accompanied  by  a  rippling 
murmur  of  something  which  sounded  like  a  witch's  litany, 
showed  that  he  was  yet  laboring  over  his  letter — a  letter 
which  was  indeed  very  ditticult  to  write,  for  the  writer 
wanted  to  say  one  thing,  and  imply  another;  to  cast  off 
a  young  woman's  claims,  and  retain  her  aftections;  to 
free  himself,  and  bind  her;  to  obey  Clive  in  the  letter, 
and  disobey  him  in  the  spirit;  a  task  which  could  hardly 


273 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE W. 


be  considered  an  easy  one,  even  by  the  most  astute  of 
diplomatists — but  she  wandered  instead  into  the  httle 
garden,  wliere,  wrapped  in  a  shawl,  she  paced  up  and 
down  the  narrow  walk  under  the  sea-wall,  pausing  every 
now  and  then  to  give  a  long  look  across  the  sandy,  shell- 
strewn  beach,  and  persuading  herself,  after  each  fruitless 
glance,  that  she  had  only  been  watching  the  waves  rush- 
ing up,  to  break  in  foaming  ripples  on  the  glistening 
shore,  or  the  fading,  faint  red  light  on  the  distant  sand- 
stone cliffs  and  purple  headlands. 

Presently  something  interrupted  her. 

Two  boys  had  come  under  the  wall,  and  were  talking. 
The  wind  caught  some  of  their  words,  and  flung  them  up 
to  Kate  as  she  paused  on  the  garden-path  above  ;  but 
they  might  have  been  so  many  stones,  to  judge  from  the 
violent  start  she  gave,  and  the  suddenness  with  which  her 
bright  color  (higher  than  usual  from  contact  with  the  chilly 
evening  breeze)  faded  to  a  dull,  sickly  white.  This  was 
what  she  heard : 

"Zays  I,  theer's  murder  doin' yonner — murder,  an'  nout 
else." 

"  Eh,  Zammy,  yo're  nout  else  but'n  fooil  yo'sei',"  an- 
swered the  second  speaker,  as  Kate,  sick  and  shivering, 
crept  closer  to  the  wall.  "  VVhat'never  'ould  gentry-folk 
want  wi' murderin' o' theysel'n  .^  Moast  like  they  he's 
play-actors  a-tryin'  ower  what'ns  got  to  zay  i'  the  booth." 

"  Play-actors!  It's  yo'  as  knaws  nout,  Ben.  Tell  yo' 
a  heerd  un  zay  to  t'other,  '  It's  a  domned  lie ;  '  an'  then 
coam  a  mouthful  o'  curzes,  an'  then  a  zort  o'  yell,  like  as 
though  t'other  had  beaten  he  down  ;  an'  then  a  loup  an' 
splash  i'  th'  watter.  A  lookit  an'  lookit  ower  th'  cliff^  an' 
a  couldno  zee  nout'n  ;  an'  then  a  creepit  a  bit  rouji'  an' 
stoopit  lower,  an'  a  zeed  th'  won  veller  stannin'  a'  by  her- 
sel',  bendin  down  an'  pushin'  summat  back  i'  th'  watter; 
an'  then  a  ivere  tookit  skeered  lest  her  mout  zee  I,  an'  a 
oop  an'  runned  away  as  zlick  as  e'er  a  could,  an'  zays  I, 
theer's  murder  done,  an'  noutelsen  ;  zo  coam  along,  Ben, 
an'  tell  feyther  all  aboat  it.  Eh,  won't  theer  be  arouse  i' 
th'  town  !  " 

^'Aye;  but,  Zammy,  tell  us  furrst — which 'n  ever  was  it 


PRE TTY  MISS  BELLE  W.  273 

floong  t'other  in  ?"  Ben's  voice  asked  eagerly,  and  Sam- 
my's answered  as  from  a  distance  : 

"Her  as  coam  to  tli' Red  Lion  afoor  night;  th'  big 
veller  wi'  gray  cloathes,  an'  a  hat  made'n  a  bit  o's  coat." 

There  was  no  more  to  be  heard.  The  footsteps  died 
away  along  the  beach,  and  all  was  silent;  but  surely  Kate 
had  learned  enough !  For  some  seconds  she  did  not 
move  or  speak,  but  remained  dumb  and  motionless, 
crouching  against  the  wall  like  one  stunned  by  a  heavy 
blow.  She  was  not  actually  fainting — she  had  never 
fainted  in  her  life;  and  she  was  conscious — conscious  of 
a  great  abyss  of  pain  and  horror  and  crime  opening  un- 
der her  feet;  but  if  any  one  had  called  to  her  in  that 
moment  she  could  not  have  answered.  If  the  wall  had 
given  way  beside  her  she  could  not  have  moved.  It  was 
as  if  she  were  stupefied  and  numbed  into  a  sort  of  half- 
life,  where  only  one  fact  was  present  to  her,  one  sound 
whirling  in  her  brain — "  M'Kenzie  murdered  by  Clive ! 
Munkrcd—by—CIive  /  " 

Even  her  lips  kept  repeating  it  in  faint,  semi-uncon- 
sciousness of  the  meaning;  and  then — all  of  a  sudden 
the  church-clock  struck  eight  far  away  on  the  hill;  and 
as  if  that  low,  booming  sound,  telling  stroke  by  stroke  of 
the  hour  when  they 'were  to  have  returned,  woke  her  sud- 
denly to  the  knowledge  that  one  at  least  would  never 
come  back,  she  sprang  to  her  feet  with  a  low,  sharp  cry, 
and  dropping  tl;e  shawl,  which  she  had  been  holding 
round  her,  on  to  the  dewy  grass,  rushed  into  the  house 
with  while  face  and  damp,  loosened  hair,  to  look  for  her 
brother. 

He  was  not  there. 

The  fact  was  that  having  finished  his  letter,  and  not 
seeing  any  one  to  talk  to,  Dick  had  gone  out  with  his 
cigar  to  join  the  other  men.  Unfortunately  he  didn't 
know  whi(  h  way  they  had  taken,  and  after  staring  up  and 
down  the  beach,  and  invoking  sundry  maledictions  on  his 
own  stupicity  in  not  asking  them,  started  (with  the  usual 
perversity  of  fate)  in  precisely  the  wrong  direction.  But 
Kate  (lid  not  know  this ;  and  to  find  an  empty  room 
where  she  had  expected  help  and  comfort  in  her  dire  ter- 
18 


274  P^E  TTY  MISS  BELLE  IV. 

ror  and  anxiety,  to  be  left  alone  in  the  first  peep  of  trag- 
edy which  had  opened  its  dark  lantern  on  her  gay,  girl- 
ish life,  she  who  had  never  been  alone  in  even  the  tiniest 
trouble  or  perplexity  before — was  too  cruel  a  calamity. 
Big,  agonized  tears  of  helplessness  and  fright  came  into 
her  beautiful  brown  eyes,  and  ran  over  her  pale  cheeks, 
as  she  called,  trembling  and  terrified,  for  the  landlady,  and 
asked  her  if  she  had  heard  of  "anything  dreadful  hap- 
pening that  evening — any  one  killing  another — a — a 
murder  ?  " 

"Lor'  bless  my  soul,  m'm !  No,  for  sure.  Whatever's 
put  such  an  idea  in  your  head  ?  "  cried  Mrs.  Dobson,  star- 
ing and  excited,  as  was  only  natural  at  being  asked  such 
an  unlooked-for  question  in  her  own  quiet  parlor;  and 
before  the  eager,  vulgar  flutter  of  curiosity  in  the  good 
woman's  face  and  manner,  Kate  felt  the  blood  rush  into 
her  cheeks  again,  as  she  faltered  that  she  had  heard  two 
boys  talking  of  a  murder  that  had  just  been  committed 
on  the  beach.  She  had  been  too  frightened  to  stop 
them,  and  they  had  gone  on  up  into  the  village.  Had 
not  Mrs.  Dobson  heard  anything  of  it  ? 

Mrs.  Dobson  looked  more  pleasantly  excited  than  be- 
fore ;  and  said,  "  Lor'  bless  my  soul,  m'm  !  No,"  again  in 
a  tone  which  betrayed  her  disappointment  that  she  had 
missed  the  information. 

"But  sakes  alive!  You're  all  trembling,  m'm,"  she 
said.  "Do  'ee  sit  down,  an'  Lll  get  'ee  a  glass  of  water 
afore  I  run  over  to  the  shop  an'  see  if  they've  heard 
nothing.  A  murder  for  sure  now!  'Ee  don't  say  so, 
m'm  !  Dear  heart !  but  that'll  be  summut  to  stir  us  up  a 
bit,  wi'  th'  inquest  and  all.  An'  didn't  they  say  nothink 
as  to  who  'twas  as  murdered  t'other,  or  was  murdered  ? 
No  one  you'd  know,  m'm,  for  sure?"  asked  the  good 
woman,  in  quite  a  little  glow  of  expectation;  but  Kate 
would  say  no  more.  Well-born  and  bred  little  lady  that 
she  was,  she  felt  thrown  back  on  herself,  ashamed  and 
self-disgusted  at  having  her  natural  horror  and  dismay 
met  by  only  vulgar,  lively  curiosity.  She  was  a  girl  of  the 
period  by  education,  it  is  true,  but  she  had  by  nature  the 
shy,  virginal  instinct,  which  has  not — thank  God  ! — wholly 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 


275 


departed  from  our  English  womankind,  of  shrinking  from 
pubUc  notice  in  anything  painful,  or  questionable,  as  from 
public  sin.     She  sliook  her  head  silently  and  let  the  land- 
lady go,  and  then  cast  herself  down  shivering  and  lialf 
sobbing  by  the  fire.     It  was  too  late  to  help  him  of  whom 
even  then  she  did  not  think  as  of  one  she  might  have 
loved,   but  as  of  one   foully  and   cruelly  injured.     If  it 
were  true,  the  deed  was  done,  and  past  all  recall ;  but  was 
it — could  it  be  so  indeed  ?     Could  there  be  no  mistake  ? 
and,  oh !   where — where  was  Dick  that  he  did  not  come 
in  ?     Each  minute  as  it  passed  seemed  like  an  hour  to  the 
terrified,  overstrung  girl ;  and  she  almost  screamed  when 
at  last,  without  any  knock  at  the  outer  door,  or  other  note 
of  warning,  she  heard  the  tramp  of  a  man's  foot  in   the 
passage,  the  touch  of  a  man's  hand  on  the  door-handle. 
It  was  not   Dick.     She  knew  that  in   a  moment.     Her 
senses,  shari)ened  to  unnatural  keenness,  told  her  who  it 
was  in  the  same  second,  long  before  the  hand,  fumbling 
with — oh,  God  !  could  it  be  ? — the  awkwardness  of  con- 
scious guilt,  had  succeeded  in  opening  the  door;  and  un- 
able longer  to  bear  the  suspense,  she  Hung  it  wide  herself, 
and  saw  facing  her,  in  the  red,  flickering  firelight,  Clive! 
not  dressed  with  his  usual   neatness,   not  even   in    the 
clothes  he  had  gone  out  in  ;   with  his  hair  damp  and  ruf- 
fled;  and  on  his  cheek,  something  which  almost  turned 
her  physically  sick  to  look  upon — a  dry  crimson  stain ! 
\^'hat  followed  we  have  heard. 

I  have  read  in  an  old  Book  that  a  certain  man  stag- 
gering, sick  and  red-handed,  from  the  scene  of  a  murder, 
was  met  by  One  walking  upon  the  earth,  who  said  to 
him  : 

"Where  is  Abel,  thy  brother?  .  .  .  What  hast  thou 
done?" 

And  Cain,  knowing  with  the  knowledge  of  despaii 
that  he  was  discovered,  yet  lifted  his  blood-stained  fact,* 
to  meet  that  Eternal  gaze,  and  answered  in  sullen  defi- 
ance: 

"I  know  not.     .Am  /my  brother's  keeper?" 
ITad  CHve  in  that  cpiarrel  by  the  sea  shore  raised  his 
hand    against   the   Canadian,   e\  en    in   self-defense — haj-'e 


276  PI^E  TT  y  MISS  BELLE  IF. 

the  waves  drawn  M'Kenzie  forever  under  their  ceaseless, 
silent  current,  think  you  that  that  old-world  scene,  on 
the  eastern  outskirts  of  the  Garden  of  Eden,  would  not 
have  risen  up  before  him,  and  that  he  would  not  have 
seen  again  the  lithe,  round  limbs  stretched  still  and  life- 
less beside  the  altar,  where  the  smoke  of  acceptance  was 
yet  rising  into  the  blue  of  an  eastern  sky,  and  the  blood 
which  had  cried  from  the  ground  for  vengeance  to  the 
Lord  was  trickling  slowly  away  in  an  incarnadine  stream 
among  the  herbs  and  grasses  of  the  field  ?  Think  you 
he  would  not  have  found  his  Nemesis  then  in  that  look 
of  horror  from  the  girl  he  loved — that  accusing  whisper, 
"What  have  you  done  with  him?" 

Lo  crco  f  And  Clive  was  not  guilty,  but  innocent. 
He  had  saved  life,  instead  of  destroying  it.  Judge,  then, 
of  the  bitterness  of  his  reward ! 

For  a  moment  he  was  utterly  taken  aback,  and  simply 
met  Miss  Bellew's  gaze  with  one  of  stupefied  wonder. 
Then,  as  he  saw  her  lips  blanch,  and  felt  her  hand  trem- 
ble on  his  arm,  he  answered  quickly : 

'■'■  Done  ivith  him  J  M'Kenzie!  What  should  I  have 
done  with  him?  Really" — with  some  natural  indigna- 
tion— '•!  don't  understand  you,  Miss  Bellew." 

The  tone  was  one  of  utter  surprise,  not  unmingled  with 
rebuke.  It  was  rather  hard  on  him,  poor  fellow,  to  be 
met,  on  coming  to  try  his  fate  with  the  woman  he  loved, 
not  by  a  word  of  welcome  for  himself,  but  an  eager  ques- 
tion for  the  man  he  could  not  help  looking  on  as  his  rival 
— unconscious,  perhaps,  but  his  rival  all  the  same.  But 
what  on  earth  had  agitated  the  girl,  that  she  should  look 
and  speak  like  this?  Had  any  one  frightened  her? 
Good  heavens  !  how  white  she  was  I 

"Are  you  alone?  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  he  asked,  for- 
getting his  first  natural  offense  in  concern,  and  instinctively 
laying  his  hand  over  the  little  fingers  still  clenched  on  his 
lamed  wrist.  "  Miss  Bellew — Kate,  don't  look  like  that, 
child.     Has  anything  happened  to  alarm  you  ?" 

For  all  reply  Kate  tore  away  her  hand  from  under  his, 
her  eyes  fixing  with  an  awful  look  of  dread  and  repulsion 
on  the  wet  bandage  she  had  touched. 


PRE TT y  MISS  BELLE  W.  zTJ 

"What  /tas  happened  ?  Tell  ;«<?/"  she  gasped,  facing 
him,  even  while  she  shrank  away  with  a  mingled  terror 
and  ferocity,  which  almost  made  Cli/c  wonder  if  her 
mind  had  gone  astray. 

*'  Happened  ?  Nothing,"  he  said,  suppressing  an  in- 
voluntary quiver  of  the  lips  at  the  physical  pain  caused  by 
the  rude  jar  on  his  injured  hand.  "  Sit  down,  and  try  and 
be  calm.  Where  is  Dick — or  your  maid  ?  Surely  they 
have  not  left  you  alone  for  any  infernal  scoundrel  to  an- 
noy you  ?  " 

Kate  did  not  even  hear  him.  She  saw  he  was  approach- 
ing her,  and  tried  to  wave  him  back ;  but  her  limbs 
tottered  under  her.  There  was  a  dark  mist  before  her 
eyes,  a  singing  in  her  ears;  and  then — in  the  same  mo- 
ment there  came  a  hasty  tap  at  the  door ;  and  Mrs.  Dob- 
son  entered,  flushed  and  panting  with  hurry  and  impor- 
tance. 

"Oh!  I  beg  parding — I  beg  parding,  I'm  sure,  m'm," 
the  good  woman  stammered,  her  quick  eye  detecting 
Clive's  presence  in  a  moment;  and  with  a  gleam  of  con- 
scious intelligence,  "Dear  heart!  You'll  excuse  me 
making  so  bold,  m'm,  I'm  sure;  but  I  just  come  in  to  tell 
as  t'other  gentleman  ain't  murdered  at  all.  It  were  just 
a  bamfoozle  o'  that  lumpin'  idiot  of  a  Sam  Gosling;  but 
in  course  this  gentleman's  been  and  telled  you  all  about 
it  already ;  an'  I'm  sure  I  don't  wonder  you  was  frighted, 
m'm,  an'  hopes  you'll  excuse  my  intrudin'." 

"What  did  frighten  Miss  Bellew  ?  And  what  is  this 
about  a  murder?"  asked  Clive,  turning  with  some  sharp 
ness  to  the  landlady  for  a  solution  of  what  was  utterly 
bewildering  him.  Kate  had  sunk  into  an  armchair,  and 
Mrs.  Dobson  laughed  a  little  nervously.  She  did  not  like 
the  young  barrister's  tone. 

"Well,  sir,  it  was  too  'diculous,  an'  I'm  sure  I  hopes  as 
you  won't  be  put  out;  but  a  silly  mooncalf  of  a  boy  as 
lives  next  door  here  heard  you  an  t'other  gentleman 
a-tnlking  under  the  cliffs;  an' —  \Vell,  sir,  you'll  hardly 
believe  it,  an'  I'm  sure  I  hope  you'll  laugh,  which  is  what 
he  won't  if  his  father  takes  my  advice,  an'  gives  him  a 
right  good  leatherin'  for  spreading  such  stories  to  drive 


278 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 


quality  from  the  town — but  the  fool  took  it  into  his  head 
that — Iia  !  h.". !  ha  ! — that  you'd  murdered  the  dark  gentle- 
man (is  if  gentry  couldn't  have  a  few  words  without 
going  to  that  there  length!)  an'  miss  heard  tell  of  it  first, 
and  were  took  dreadfully  aback,  an'  no  wonder,  sir;  and 
now,  of  course,  half-a-dozen  folk  either  saw  t'other  goin' 
into  the  '  Red  Lion,'  or  heerd  him  in  his  own  room,  an'  all 
right;  an'  for  sure  you'll  tell  miss  all  about  it;  so  I'll  go 
and  get  the  tea  up  afore  Jane  comes  in  with  the  young 
lady  an'  gentleman." 

Exit  Mrs.  Dobson,  smiling  and  nodding  to  the  last,  but 
all  the  same  convinced  at  the  first  glance  that  the  boy  had 
not  been  such  a  fool  after  all;  and  that  if  murder  had 
been  escaped,  there  had  been,  at  least,  a  serious  quarrel 
between  this  angry-looking  gentleman  and  the  Canadian, 
and  a  quarrel  roused  by  jealousy  ;  for  Mrs.  Dobson  had 
already  put  down  the  "dark  un"as  keeping  company 
with  Miss  Bellew ;  and  Martin,  her  sister,  had  differed 
from  her,  saying  that  her  young  lady  had  "so  many 
lovyers  and  folks  wantin'  her,  it  wouldn't  be  likely  she'd 
take  up  with  a  black-faced  fellow  whom  she  hadn't  known 
more  than  a  few  weeks.  If  it  were  Mr.  Philpots,  now, 
as  preached  beautiful  he  did,  at  St.  Mark's  church  in  the 
square,  an'  were  ready  to-  kiss  the  ground  Miss  Bellew 
walked  on,  for  all  Mrs.  Fothergill's  scraggy  daughter 
were  so  sweet  on  him." 

[N.  B. — Servants  never  know  or  care  anything  about 
what  goes  on  upstairs  among  their  masters  and  mis- 
tresses !  Oh  dear,  no !  What  interest  can  it  be  to 
them  ?] 

The  door  had  closed,  and  Kate  and  Clive  were  alone 
together,  yet  at  first  neither  spoke.  Kate  had  covered 
her  burning  face  with  her  hands  while  Mrs.  Dobson  was 
speaking;  and  when  she  looked  up,  Clive  was  still  stand- 
ing gazing  steadily  down  at  her.  Their  eyes  met,  and 
without  a  word  Clive  turned  away  and,  resting  his  elbow 
on  the  mantel-piece,  shaded  his  eyes  with  his  hand,  as 
though  lost  in  thought.  Outside,  the  rain  was  pattering 
on  the  ivy-leaves  by  the  window;  and,  borne  on  the  wet 
co/d  wind,  came  by  fits  and  starts  a  murmur  of  many 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV.  279 

voices,  blended  in  some  wild  hymn-tune,  from  the  little 
Dissenting  chapel  at  the  back. 

•'Mr.  Clive,"  said  Kate,  rising  up,  and  speaking  with 
a  very  trembling  little  voice,  and  very  scarlet  cheeks,  as 
shame  succeeded  to  bewilderment  and  thanksgiving,  "I 
— I'm  afraid  that  I — I  have  made  a  mistake — " 

She  must  have  spoken  very  low,  for  he  did  not  move, 
or  seem  to  hear;  and,  plucking  up  her  courage,  Kate 
came  nearer,  and  made  a  second  effort  at  conciliation — 
wonderful  for  her. 

"■  I  am  sorry  1  was  so  silly,"  she  said,  trying  to  smile, 
but  feeling  more  nervous  than  she  would  have  liked  to 
acknowledge;  and  then  Clive  turned  to  her,  and  Kate 
flinched  afresh,  for  his  face — all  but  that  red  stain— was 
deadly  white ;  and  round  his  eyes  were  two  dark  circles 
of  pure  mental  pain. 

"  Kate,"  he  said,  taking  her  hand  in  his,  and  holding  it 
firmly  while  he  looked  into  her  face,  "do  you  mean  to 
tell  me  that  you  believed  just  now  that — I  had  murdered 
Dallas  M'Kenzie?— I!" 

Kate  started  and  stammered,  and  grew  first  red,  and 
then  white.  Unreadiness  of  speech  was  most  certainly 
not  one  of  her  defects  in  general ;  but  to  have  her  hand 
taken — griped,  one  may  say — in  that  manner;  and  to  be 
called  "Kate" — not  even  Miss  Kate,  but  Kate! — and 
this  by  Bernard  Clive  of  all  people — it  was  too  out-of-the- 
way  and  uni)aralleled  a  circumstance  not  to  put  the  brav- 
est young  lady  off  her  nerve  for  a  moment.  Her  eyes 
grew  round  and  wide,  as  though  the  scarlet  blushes  be- 
neath were  dilating  them  ;  and  she  tried  vainly  to  free  her 
hand  as  she  faltered  : 

"  1 — you  forget  what  I  heard  the  boy  say  ;  and — and 
when  you  came  in  alone,  it  was  only  natural  I  should — " 

"Natural  that  you  should  think  me  a  murderer !"  cried 
Clive,  with  an  irrepressible  bitterness  which  emphasized 
itself  in  his  clasp  on  her  hand;  "good  God!  I  knew 
you  had  not  much  opinion  of  me,  but  this — I  could 
hardly  have  believed  it  even  from  you." 

His  face  was  in  deep  shadow,  so  that  Kate  could  not 
see   the   intensity  of  wistful  pain  written  on  brow  and 


28o  PRETTY  MISS  BELLE W. 

eyes.  She  was  only  irritated  at  his  persistency  in  holding 
her  hand,  and  at  the  emphasis  he  laid  on  "you,"  as 
though  he  could  have  expected  a  good  deal  of  slander 
and  uncharitableness  from  her,  but  that  she  had  even 
gone  beyond  his  expectations. 

"  I  don't  know  that  you  have  any  right  to  say  what 
opinion  I  have  of  you,"  she  said,  with  a  little  childish  pet- 
ulance, which  made  her  look  rather  prettier  than  before. 
"And — please  let  go  my  hand,  Mr.  Clive — you  know 
you  were  out  with  him  ;  and  you  don't  like  him.  It  may 
have  been  very  silly;  but  when  I  heard  what  the  boy 
said,  I  was  so  frightened  that — " 

"That,  in  your  care  for  Mr.  M'Kenzie's  safety,  you  for- 
got that  gentlemen  are  not  in  the  habit  of  murdering 
each  other  in  modern  society,"  put  in  Clive,  with  a  flash 
of  indignant  sarcasm.  He  had  let  go  her  hand  the  mo- 
ment he  was  desired. 

"It  was  not  care  for  Mr.  M'Kenzie,"  said  Kate,  draw- 
ing up  her  young  head  proudly.  "He  is  a  friend  of 
ours,  but  I  should  have  felt  the  same  if  it  had  been  any 
one  else.  When  such  a  thing  is  done,  it  is  the  dreadful 
wickedness  and  not  the  person  that  one  thinks  of:  and, 
Mr.  Clive,  I  don't  think  you  should  speak  in  that  way  to 
me.  No  other  gentleman  does  so;  and  I  am  not  used 
to  it." 

If  she  had  not  been  so  fairly,  fatally  bewitching!  If 
every  new  mood  and  movement  had  not  made  her  more 
perversely  fascinating  than  the  last !  And  yet  after  that 
speech  she  went  on  to  say  harder  things  yet. 

"Where  is  Mr.  M'Kenzie?  "  asked  the  young  lady,  as 
Clive  made  no  answer  to  her  rebuke.  She  never  guessed 
(how  should  she  ?)  that  it  was  fighting  with  his  love  for 
her  which  kept  him  silent.  "  If  you  have  not  quarreled, 
why  has  he  not  come  in  with  you,  and  why  do  you  look 
so  strange  ?  When  you  came  in  you  were  as  white  as  my 
dress,  and  your  wrist —  Oh  !  Mr.  Clive,"  and  Kate's  voice 
grew  sharp  and  tremulous  as  alarm  ngain  quickened  in 
her  pulses;  "you  are  trying  to  deceive  me;  but — but  you 
can't  deny  that  something  has  happened,  and  when  Dick 
conies  in  he  will  be  as  anxious  as  I  to  know  what  it  is." 


PRE  TTY  MISS  BELLE  IV.  281 

"But  not  as  ready  as  you  to  blame  me  before  be  knows 

Avhat  it  is,"  observed  Clive.     Kate  Hushed  to  the  temples. 

"I    am  not   blaming  you,"   she  said;  "I   asked  you   a 

question,  that  is  all;  but  if  you  did  quarrel,  I   will  say 

that  I  think  you  provoked  it ;  and  when  Dick — " 

"There  is  no  necessity  to  wait  for  Dick,"  said  Clive, 
slowly;  "so  far  from  trying  to  deceive  you  by  excusing 
myself,  I  will  tell  you  at  once  that  something  has  hap- 
pened. I  did  provoke  Mr.  M"Keni;ic,  and  also  (}uarreled 
with  him.  He  slip])ed  into  the  water,  and,  not  having  a 
change  of  dry  clothes,  has  been  obliged  to  remain  at  the 
inn  this  evening,  for  which  he  desired  me  to  apologize  to 
you.  As  to  my  wrist,  I  hurt  it  myself,  lifting  a  heavy 
weight.     Are  you  satisfied.  Miss  Bellew  ?  " 

"Satisfied!"  repeated  Kate,  rather  indignantly;  "you 
quarreled  and  he — slippai  \\\\o  the  water!  Mr.  Clive,  I 
am  not  a  child.  Do  you  mean  that  you  pushed  him  in  ? 
You  have  said  all  you  could  to  prejudice  us  against  him: 
and  though  I  suppose  you  believed  your  opinion  of  him 
to  be  the  true  one — " 

"It  was  not  a  true  one,"  interrupted  Clive.  "That  is 
what  I  wished  to  tell  you  when  1  came  in.  1  did  believe 
certain  things  against  Mr.  M'Kenzie,  I  own  it;  but  now 
I  find  I  was  mistaken,  and  retract  any  opinions  1  may 
have  expressed." 

"Then  why  did  you  express  them?"  asked  Kate, 
warmly,  and  not  Avithout  a  certain  irrepressible  triumph 
in  her  hero's  exaltation.  "I  may  be  a  foolish  girl,  Mr. 
Clive,  but  it  seems  to  me  that  to  blacken  another  man's 
character  without  cause  is  even  worse  than  quarreling 
with  and  striking  him.  You  sneered  at  me  for  being 
frightened  ;  but  when  two  friends  go  out  and  only  one 
comes  back,  in  difterent  clothes,  with  his  v.rist  bandaged, 
and  his  face —  Look  for  yourself  what  is  on  your  face." 
And  Clue,  turning  to  the  little  glass  over  the  chimney- 
board,  saw  rellected  there  the  red  stain  wf.iihhad  greeted 
Kate's  eyes  on  his  first  entrance. 

"  By  Heavens,  it's  blood  !"  he  excl  limed,  more  to  him- 
self than  the  young  lady.  "  How  on  earth — oh  !  to  be 
sure,  M'Kenzie's  head. — Miss  Belknv,"    turning   to  her 


282  PRETTY  MISS  BELLE  W. 

with  a  hard,  constrained  smile,  "  I  apologize  for  my  sneer. 
You  had  cause  to  be  frightened,  though  I  was  not  aware 

of  It." 

Kate  shrank  away  from  him,  hardly  caring  to  conceal 
her  repugnance  ;  but  before  she  could  speak,  the  door  was 
flung  open,  and  the  room  filled  with  a  perfect  clamor  of 
voices. 

"  H  ullo,  Kate  !  no  tea  yet  ?  " 

"Oh,  Katie!  it's  been  such  a  stupid  long  sermon.  I 
thought  the  old  bufter  would  never  have  done." 

"  George  put  a  pin  in  an  old  woman's  leg,  Katie." 

"Well,  she  would  fall  asleep  and  wobble  her  head  in  a 
disgusting  black  poke-bonnet  on  my  shoulder;  and  I 
wasn't  going  to  stand  it;  so  there!" 

"Why,  Clive,  old  fellow,  what  the  deuce  are  you  look- 
ing so  glum  for  ?  I've  been  hearing  no  end  of  gossip 
about  you.  Report  says  you  and  M'Kenzie  have  slain 
each  other,  and  been  carried  into  the  inn  to  have  an  in- 
quest held  on  you.  I  go  to  the  '  Red  Lion,'  top  speed, 
and  fi)id  M'Kenzie  imbibing  very  excellent  hot  grog,  in 
bed,  with  his  head  tied  u]i,  from  a  tumble  off  the  cliffs; 
and  full  of  your  prowess  in  scrambling  after  him  and  help- 
ing to  haul  him  on  to  terra  firma  again."  This  from  Dick, 
drowning  the  children's  clatter. 

"Not  much  prowess  about  it,"  said  Clive,  quietly;  "ask 
Miss  Bellew,  she  knows  the  whole  story." 

And  Kate  turned  from  him,  and  began  to  pour  out  the 
tea,  trembling  with  indignation.  So  he  could  afford  to 
brave  her  under  shelter  of  M'Kenzie' s  generosity;  and 
she  might  not  even  ask  whether  the  latter  were  seriously 
hurt,  for  fear  of  drawing  on  herself  a  fresh  sting  of  sar- 
casm ! 

She  hardly  opened  her  lips  during  the  remainder  of  the 
evening. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

CLIVE  GETS  HIS  CONG^. 

A  BRIGHT,  fresh  morning,  and  Kate  sitting  on  the 
beach  reading  a  letter.  Above  her  head  big,  fleecy, 
white  clouds  driving  one  over  another,  like  gigantic  snow- 
flakes  across  a  sky  of  clear,  brilliant  blue.  In  front,  the 
sea,  a  darker  blue,  capped  with  foam,  sparkling  and  froth- 
ing in  a  very  whirlpool  of  bubble,  glitter  and  spray  from 
the  tips  of  her  little  toes  to  the  boundary  line  of  the  far 
blue  horizon.  Behind,  the  red  roofs  of  the  village,  new 
washed  in  last  night's  rain,  glowing  like  honest  faces  in 
the  sunshine,  and  giving  warmth  and  body  to  the  blue- 
green  coloring  of  the  surroundings.  Linen  hanging  out 
to  dry  in  a  white  flutter  on  the  gooseberry-bushes  in  the 
cottage  gardens  at  the  back.  May-trees,  all  a  wilderness 
of  bloom,  filling  the  air  with  perfume.  Dottie  digging 
holes  in  the  sand  at  a  little  distance.  Kate,  with  her 
striped  petticoats  tucked  well  under  her  to  prevent  the 
wind  making  free  with  thcin,  and  her  hat  on  the  back  of 
her  head,  trying  to  be  interested  in  Bee  Vanborough's  six 
pages  of  closely-written  epistle,  and  not  feel  sulky. be- 
cause Dick  had  gone  to  breakfast  at  the  inn,  and  had 
stayed  there  instead  of  bringing  his  friends  back  to  the 
cottage.  George  and  Madgie — somewhere  I — not  being 
audible,  probably  in  mischief. 
"Good  morning,  Miss  Bellew." 

Kate  turned  round,  droppmg  her  letters,  and  looking 
u\)  with  a  smile  of  expectation.  True,  it  was  Clive's 
voice  which  spo';c ;  but  she  never  dreamed  but  that  he 

283 


284  P^^ TTY  MISS  BELLE  W. 

was  accompanied  by  the  others;  and  though  her  face  fell 
to  quite  disproportionate  length  on  discovering  that  he 
was  alone,  he  had  stooped  to  pick  up  the  scattered  sheets 
of  paper,  and  did  not  see  the  change. 

"Good  morning,"  she  said,  with  cool  civility.  "Oh, 
thank  you.  Pray  don't  take  the  trouble"  (as  the  wind 
blew  away  one  of  the  pages,  and  he  went  after  it).  "Is 
Dick  with  you?"  She  was  on  her  guard  this  morning, 
and  would  not  be  the  first  to  mention  the  other's  name. 

••  Ko,"  said  Clive.  "  He  bade  mo  tell  you  he  would 
not  be  in  till  lunch.  I  have  another  message  for  you — 
from  M'Kenzie." 

"  How  dare  he  speak  of  him  after  last  night !"  thought 
Kate.  "A  message!"  she  repeated,  aloud.  "What  is 
it  ?"  but  her  voice  failed  a  little;  for,  unless  he  were  not 
coming  himself,  what  need  to  send  a  message  ? 

"  It  was  to  bid  you  good-bye,"  said  Clive,  quietly,  his 
eyes  reading  her  face  as  if  to  note  the  disappointment 
she  was  determined  not  to  show.  "  He  begged  me  to 
tell  you  that  he  was  summoned  up  to  town  too  early  this 
morning  to  make  his  adieu  in  person,  and  that  he  hoped 
you  would  confide  George  to  my  care  when  I  leave  this 
evening.  He  did  not  like  to  carry  off  the  little  fellow  in 
such  a  hurry." 

"  I  do  not  think  there  is  any  need  for  George  to  go 
away  again,"  said  Kyte,  more  deeply  offended  than  she 
would  have  cared  to  own  even  to  herself.  "Mrs.  Dob- 
son  has  managed  to  make  him  up  a  little  bed,  and —  Oh, 
no  !  I  am  sure  my  mother  would  prefer  his  being  with  us 
when  there  is  no  absolute  necessity  for  trespassing  on 
other  people's  kindness." 

She  spoke  more  haughtily  than  she  knew;  but,  indeed, 
her  poor  little  heart  was  swelling  with  wounded  feeling, 
of  which  M'Kenzie  was  the  cause — not  Clive.  What  had 
she  done,  that  all  of  a  sudden  he  should  avoid  her  and 
return  to  town  without  even  bidding  her  good-bye  ?  It 
was  very  generous  and  magnanimous  of  him  to  defend 
and  excuse  his  defamer;  but  he  need  not  make  common 
cause  with  the  latter,  and  use  his  enemy  as  a  messenger 
to  his  friend.     What  had  %\\q  done?     Nothing  t  lat  she 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW.  285 

could  think  of.  Had  she  failed  in  any  kindness  to  him  ? 
Most  certainly  not.  If  she  had  erred  at  all,  it  was  the 
other  way,  and  the  other  man  who  ought  to  have  left  her 
in  oflense;  or  was  it — but  no!  such  a  thought  could 
never  have  entered  his  mind.  Clive — no,  not  even  Clive, 
hateful  as  he  was,  could  ever  liave  been  so  cowardly,  so 
cruel  and  ungenerous  as  to  hint  to  him,  what  he  had 
already  hinted  to  her,  that  she  cared  for  him  more  th;in 
was  maidenly  to  care  for  a  man  who  had  never  given  her 
reason  to  consider  him  anything  more  than  a  friend.  Oh, 
no !  it  was  too  horrible  an  idea.  She  would  not  even 
suffer  it  in  her  mind,  or  fancy  for  one  moment  that  it  had 
influenced  his;  but  it  sent  the  blood  burning  into  her 
cheeks,  and  roused  every  bit  of  pride  in  her  nature,  to 
hide  away  any  spark  of  feeling  or  concern  at  the  Canadi- 
an's departure  from  the  man  who  had  been  his  enemy, 
and  whom  she  considered  hers. 

"  Mamma  will  write  and  thank  Mr.  M'Kenzie  for  his 
kindness,"  she  said,  more  frigidly  than  before.  Poor  little 
Kate !  She  little  knew  how  that  very  frigidity  betrayed 
her  as  being  so  different  from  her  usual  manner.  "I  dare 
say  he  will  be  very  glad  to  be  relieved  of  the  burden." 

"Oh  dear,  no  !  I  don't  think  he  considered  it  a  burden 
at  all,  but  rather  a  very  pleasant  trust,"  said  Clive,  good- 
naturedly.  "  However,  if  you  really  prefer  to  keep 
George  here — " 

"Mrs.  Dobson  has  found  a  bed  for  him,"  repeated 
Kate,  and  then  she  stood  up.  "Shall  we  go  into  the 
house  ?     I  will  call  Dottie  first.     She  has  not  seen  you." 

"Don't  call  her  just  yet,"  said  Clive,  hurriedly — "that 
is,  if  you  don't  mind  staying  out  a  little  longer.  I  have 
something  more  to  say  to  you." 

"From  Mr.  M'Kenzie,  also?"  asked  Kate,  very  care- 
lessly, though  her  pulses  thrilled  with  eagerness  to  know 
what  it  was.     "  But  you  can  say  it  as  we  walk  along." 

"I  would  rather  say  it  here,  if  you  don't  object,"  said 
Clive,  "and  it  is  not  from  Mr.  M'Kenzie,  but  myself" 

Kate's  eagerness  died  on  the  instant.  She  sat  down 
on  a  stone,  because  the  wind  would  blow  her  hair  into 
her  eyes,  and  twist  her  clothes  round  her  like  a  rope,  like 


286  PRE  TT  V  MISS  BELLE  W. 

the  damsels  in  Hablot  Browne's  seaside  sketches;  and 
she  could  feel  more  dignified  and  at  her  ease  when  not 
embarrassed  by  flapping  drapery  and  blinding  curls. 

'■'Another  quarrel,  I  suppose!"  she  said  to  herself,  with 
an  involuntary  shrug  of  her  shoulders. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Clive  ?  "  (this  aloud.) 

"Kate,  will  you  be  my  wife?" 

Off  went  Kate's  hat.  She  had  been  trying  to  keep  it 
on  her  head  ;  but  this  was  too  much  for  her.  Her  hands 
dropped  upon  her  lap,  and  the  hat  flew  off,  and,  after  ex- 
ecuting a  wild  gambol  on  the  beach,  lodged  in  a  pool  of 
water  between  a  couple  of  huge  stones.  No  one  no- 
ticed it. 

"Mr.  Clive!"  she  said,  indignantly. 

"Are  you  surprised?"  said  Clive,  smiling  a  little.  If 
he  was  nervous  he  did  not  show  it.  "  I  dare  say  that  is 
not  the  proper  way  of  asking;  but,  Kate,  I  ought  to 
have  told  you  first  that  I  love  you.  I  have  loved  you  for 
some  time  back,  and — " 

"Are  you  laughing  at  me?"  cried  Kate,  with  scarlet 
cheeks  and  flashing  eyes.  "Mr.  Clive,  this  is  not  a  sub- 
ject for  a  joke.     You  forget  yourself" 

"I  don't  mean  it  for  a  joke,"  said  Clive,  quietly.  "I 
should  be  forgetting  myself  indeed  if  I  did.  Yes,  I  dare 
say  you  are  surprised.  I  was,  myself,  when  I  first  found  it 
out;  and  I  don't  mind  telling  you  I  fought  against  it 
with  all  my  might,  for  you  have  not  been  very  kind  to 
me,  and  " — with  another  smile — "you  are  not  perfect, "you 
know,  Kate."  (Kate  gave  a  little,  wrathful  jump,  and 
the  fingers  of  her  right  hand  doubled  convulsively;  but 
some  feelings  cannot  be  expressed  in  words.)  "You  are 
not  even  at  all  like  the  ideal  which  I — like  most  men, 
I  expect — had  of  my  future  wife ;  but  I  suppose  you 
were  more  bewitching  than  my  ideal.  At  any  rate, 
you've  bewitched  me ;  for  I  do  love  you,  honestly  and 
truly,  better  than  I  think  I  should  ever  have  loved  her 
even  if  I  had  met  her,  better  than  I  have  ever  loved  any 
woman  yet — barring  my  mother." 

"  If  you  are  not  joking,  you  mean  to  insult  me.  Is 
this  your  revenge,   Mr.  Clive?"  cried  Kate,  springing  to 


PRE TTY  MISS  BELLE W.'  287 

her  feet,  but  promptly  sitting  down  again,  because  the 
wind  as  promptly  made  a  balloon  of  her  skirts. 

"Revenge!    What   for?"  said   Clive.      "Oh!"— with 
rather  a  scornful   smile,   "our   quarrel   last   night,    you 
mean  !     Well,  you  were  unjust,  and  you  hurt  me.     I  had 
come  to  the  house  meaning  to  tell  you  what  I  have  told 
you  now;  and  you  greeted  me  by  calling  nie  a  murderer. 
Rather  hard  lines  for  any  man,  you'll  allow  yourself;  but 
as  to  revenge,  and  on  a  girl  too !     You  were  laughing 
when  you  said  that.     And,  indeed,  after  I  left  you  I  re- 
membered that  you  were  but  a  child  after  all,  and  that 
xcvy  appearance,  combined  with  the  cock-and-bull  story 
you  had  heard,  was  sufficient  to  frighten  you,  and  set  your 
little  head  running  on  murders  and  the  like.     1  was  an- 
gry with  you  for  being  unjust  to  me;  but  it  was  more  un- 
just of  me  to  be  angry  when  I  should  have  recollected 
what  a  child  you  were." 

"  I  am  nineteen"  said  Kate,  with  an  emphasis  which 
would  have  been  imposing  if  she  had  said  nine-and- 
thirty — "If  you  call  that  a  child!  " — 

"Nineteen  ?"  repeated  Clive.  "Only  that!  Poor  lit- 
tle thing;  and*I  expected  you  to  have  the  reason  and 
common  sense  of  a  man.  Nineteen  !  Why,  I  was  a  fool 
to  be  offended  with  you.  No  wonder  you've  thought  me 
hard ;  but,  Kate,  I  do  love  you  ;  and,  God  helping  me, 
I'll  be  a  good  husband  to  you,  if  you'll  only  try  to  love 
me,  and  be  my  wife." 

He  had  bent  down  and  taken  her  two  hands  in  his  as 
he  spoke;  but  Kate  snatched  them  away  with  a  prompti- 
tude and  look  which  showed  that  if  she  could  have  boxed 
his  ears  with  them,  she  would. 

"  I — never — was — so  insulted  in  my  life,"  she  panted, 
breathlessly. 

"  Insulted  ! "  echoed  Clive,  opening  his  eyes.  "  Do  you 
call  a  man  asking  you  to  be  his  wife,  insulting  you  ?" 

"Yes,  I  do,"  answered  Kate,  hotly,  "when  that  man  is 
— is  you.  Yes,  Mr.  Clive,  you  may  look  at  me  if  you 
like;  but  it  is  an  insult.  Why,  you  have  never  said  a 
civil  word  or  done  a  civil  action  for  me  in  your  life.  You 
have  hardly  ever  listened  to  me  without  a  contradiction, 


288  PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 

or  looked  at  me  without  a  sneer.  From  the  very  first 
day  you  came  to  our  house,  you  have  seemed  to  take  a 
pleasure  in  showing  me  how  cheap  you  held  me,  and  how 
little  you  cared  for  my  good  opinion,  or  the  reverse.  You 
have  been  rude  to  me  at  home,  and  impertinent  to  me 
here.  You  have  quarreled  with  my  friends,  and  done  every- 
thing you  could  to  make  me  dislike  you ;  and  then — iJicji 
you  have  the  courage  to  come  to  me  and  say,  *  Will  you  be 
my  wife,?'  No,  Mr.  Clive,  I  will  not;  and  you  know  it 
perfectly  well — as  well  as  you  know  that  your  asking  me 
IS  what  I  call  it — an  insult." 

"Then  that  is  )'Our  answer?"  said  Clive,  so  quietly  it 
seemed  more  as  if  he  were  speaking  to  himself  "  Well,  I 
might  have  known  \  for  after  all  I  was  right,  and  he 
wrong." 

"  I  don't  know  who  '■  he^  is,"  said  Kate,  coloring  very 
much,  as  for  the  first  time  some  flash  of  thought  con- 
nected Clive's  proposal  with  M'Kenzie's  departure,  "  but 
it  is  you,  certainly,  who  have  been  wrong." 

"In  allowing  myself  to  love  you  1  "  said  Clive.  "  Yes,  I 
suppose  so.     I  told  you  I  struggled  against  it." 

"It  is  a  pity  you  gave  in,"  cried  Kate,  <lith  a  scornful 
toss  of  her  lovely  little  head,  round  which  the  wavy  brown 
locks  were  blowing  out  in  the  breeze  like  those  of  a  young 
Diana.  "Love  !  I  don't  think  you  know  what  it  is, when 
you  don't  think  the  object  of  it  worth  even  liking.  You 
call  me  a  child,  and  you  talk  of  my  faults  ;  but,  Mr.  Clive, 
I  am  not  a  child.  I  am  nineteen,  and  a  woman  ;  and  I 
have  a  right  to  be  treated  with  courtesy  and  deference, 
like  other  women.  You  may  be  able  to  love  people  whom 
you  dislike,  despise,  and  ridicule  as  you  do  me ;  but  I  am 
not.  I  could  never  love  any  one  whom  I  did  not  think 
more — much  more  of  than  I  do  of  myself  You  ask  me  to 
lie  your  wife .'  and  you  have  never  even  tried  to  win  me 
for  a  friond.  I  would  have  been  your  friend,  for  Dick's 
sake,  if  you  had  wanted  it;  I  would  never  be  your  wife. 
Mr.  Clive,  if  a  woman  is  worth  taking,  she  is  certainly 
worth  winning;  and  you,  at  any  rate,  have  never  tried  to 
win  me." 

"  If  you  mean  that  I  have   not  talked  a  heap   of  non- 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE W. 


289 


sensical  flattery  to  you  and  quoted  poetry — "  began  Clive  ; 
but  Kate  was  in  a  passion,  and  interrupted  liim. 

"  I  don't  mean  that.  I  mean  that  you  have  treated  me 
like  a  baby,  or  a  toy,  to  be  laughed  at,  played  with,  or 
flung  on  one  side,  just  as  you  in  your  superior  lordship 
think  fit.  There  are  other  men  like  you  who  do  so,  and 
go  about  in  a  grand  '  haw,  haw  '  way  among  ladies,  until 
they  think  they  have  cowed  us  into  proper  awe  and  ad- 
miration, and  all  the  time  we  are  laughing — oh  !  you  can't 
think  how  we  laugh  at  you  among  ourselves  :  and  when 
you  deign  to  fall  in  love  with  us,  as  you  call  it,  and  show 
us  that  you  think  we  are  so  frantic  to  get  married  that  we 
will  even  accept  you  after  all  this,  we  are  glad — yes,  Mr. 
C\\\t,  glad / — to  tell  you  that  we  would  rather  marry  the 
poorest  and  plainest  man  living.  Marry  !"  cried  Kate, 
with  flaming  cheeks  and  clasped  hands;  "  why,  if  it  came 
to  that,  I  would  rather  be  even  an — an  old  maid !  yes, 
much  rather." 

"  Have  you  done  ?  "  said  Clive,  with  a  pale,  angry  smile, 
and  a  voice  whose  forced  coolness  was  a  marked  contrast 
to  the  impetuous  outburst  which  had  preceded  it.  "If 
so,  allow  me  to  bid  you  good  morning,  and  to  assure  you 
that  since  your  preference  turns  to  old-maidhood;,I  think 
you  are  quite  certain  to  achieve  it  by  simply  repeating 
the  tirade  with  which  you  have  favored  me  to  the  next 
man  who  pays  you  the  greatest  proof  of  respect  in  his 
power,  by  trusting  his  honor  to  your  hands,  and  asking 
you  to  be  his  wife.  I  need  hardly  say  how  deeply  I  re- 
gret having  done  so.     Good-bye." 

He  lifted  his  hat  as  he  spoke,  and  turned  away ;  but  at 
this  moment  Dottie,  having  suddenly  caught  sight  of  him, 
tluew  down  her  spade,  and  came  running  up  to  claim  his 
companionsiiip.  Kate  tried  to  detain  her,  and  Clive 
walked  on  fast,  pretending  not  to  hear  his  name  shouted 
behind  him  ;  but  Dottie  was  not  to  be  baffled,  and  pursued 
him  as  fast  as  lier  short  legs  would  carry  her,  until  at  last 
he  turned  round,  and  caught  her  up  in  his  arms,  asking 
what  she  wanted. 

"Me — wants — 00,"  cried  Dottie,  panting  very  much, 
and  bringing  out  her  words  in  little  apoplectic  jerks. 
19 


290 


PRETTY  mMISS  BELLEVV. 


"  Turn  and  play  wis  me.     Do,  Misser  Kive,  an'  mate  cat's- 
cwadles,  will  00  ?" 

•  "Not  to-day,  Dottie :  I  can't.  I'm  going  away  to 
London,"  said  Clive,  so  gravely  that  Dottie  linked  her 
fat  hands  behind  his  neck,  and  looked  inclined  to  whimper. 

"  Don't  do  away  to  Lonnon;  me  wants  00  to  'top  here 
wis  me,"  she  said,  plaintively. 

"Do  you,  little  lassie  ?  I'm  afraid  you're  in  the  minor- 
ity in  that  wish,"  said  Clive,  smiling,  but  speaking  rather 
huskily  still.  "But  I  can't  stay,  anyhow;  so  kiss  me, 
Dottie,  like  a  good  little  girl,  will  you  ?  and  say  good-bye." 

"Dood-bye,"  said  Dottie,  whimpering,  and  giving  him 
the  required  kiss  very  heartily.  "Tum  back  quick,  Misser 
Kive — do  tum  back  quick;  "  and  then  she  ran  away  to 
tell  Kate  that  "poor  Misser  Kive  had  to  do  all  ze  way  to 
Lonnon,  an'  wouldn't  she  tell  him  to  tum  back  quick." 

Kate  scolded  her  a  little,  telling  her  that  it  was  very 
naughty  of  little  girls  to  run  after  gentlemen  in  that  way, 
and  that  she  didn't  think  it  at  all  likely  that  Mr.  Clive 
would  e'trr  come  back — whereat  Dottie  wept ;  and  Kate 
walked  oft'  in  an  injured  and  dignified  frame  of  mind  to 
get  her  hat.  It  did  not  add  to  the  soothing  of  her  peace 
of  mind  to  see  it  swollen  and  soaked  in  the  pool  afore- 
mentioned, with  its  pretty  blue  ribbons  all  stained  and 
spoiled.  She  picked  it  up,  gave  it  an  angry  little  shake, 
and  walked  home,  holding  it  in  her  hand,  the  fresh  sea- 
breeze  blowing  over  her  uncovered  head,  and  taking 
wild  liberties  with  every  frill  and  ribbon-end  of  her  flutter- 
ing draperies. 

How  dared  he  insult  her  so!  How  dared  he!  To 
ask  her  to  marry  him  after  making  himself  so  consistently 
unpleasant  to  her,  and  quarreling  with  M'Kenzie,  and 
all !  Why,  the  enormity  of  it  almost  took  away  her 
breath,  without  any  help  from  the  wind;  and  now,  to 
add  to  it,  came  another  thought :  had  he  not  done  worse 
— much  worse  than  merely  quarreling  with  M'Kenzie — 
had  he  not  driven  him  away  ? 

She  began  to  think  about  it,  and  grew  more  angry  every 
moment  that  she  thought. 

She  had  been  so  kind  to  him  when  he  first  arrived — 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 


291 


SO  kind  and  cordial,  thinking  him  to  be  in  love  with 
another  woman  (and,  by  the  way,  he  must  have  forgotten 
Mrs.  (jrey  when  he  talked  of  never  having  cared  for  any 
woman  as  he  cared  for  her),  and  he  had  repaid  her  by 
c[uarreling  with  her  at  once  about  her  friends,  and  tra- 
(lucing  M'Kenzie,  who  had  not  oftended  him  in  any  way. 
True,  he  had  been  obliged  to  retract  all  he  said  after- 
wards, but  that  only  proved  how  false  it  was,  and  how 
true  and  stainless  the  calumniated  man.  Then,  when  he 
found  he  could  not  shake  her  faith  in  her  friend,  he  had 
tjuarreled  with  the  latter — a  (luarrel  which  she  felt  con- 
vinced had  come  to  far  more  than  ill  words,  and  which, 
but  for  M'Kenzie's  generosity,  might  have  brought  serious 
consequences  on  the  liarrister's  head.  It  was  something 
to  have  escaped  murder  (and  Kate  shivered  and  grew 
cold  at  the  thought),  but  men  are  punished  for  less  than 
murder.  And  then,  persisting  in  the  absurdity  (and  such 
absurdity!  Kate  repeated)  of  considering  M'Kenzie  his 
rival,  and  trusting  to  the  latter's  magnanimity,  he  had 
persuaded  him  to  leave  the  place  without  (oh,  crowning 
wrong!)  even  saying  good-bye,  and  had  taken  advantage 
of  his  freedom  to  inflict  this  last  impertinence  on  his  too- 
enduring  hostess.  How  dared  he!  she  said  again,  as  the 
whole  .scene  rose  before  her  eyes.  Talking  of  her  faults, 
too  !  and  calling  her  a  child  !  Child,  indeed  !  She 
would  like  to  know  what  Dirk  would  say  when  he  heard 
of  it.  She  hoped  he  would  never  speak  to  the  hateful 
man  again. 

Full  of  her  wrongs,  Kate  had  swept  on  at  a  pace  de- 
cidedly trying  to  Dottie's  shortness  of  limb  and  breath, 
and  having  now  arrived  at  the  cottage,  rushed  full  tilt 
into  the  parlor,  where  Dick  was  lying  on  his  back  on  the 
sofa,  a  cigarette  between  his.  lips,  and  the  Times  in  his 
hand. 

"Dick!  Oh,  Dick!"  cried  Kate,  shutting  the  door 
abruptly,  and  flying  to  his  side,  "what  do  you  think  has 
happened?     Oh!  you  will  never  guess." 

"Don't  want  to,"  said  Dick.  "My  dear  child,  I  wish 
you'd  be  more  gentle  in  your  movements.  You  nearly 
made  me  swallow  my  cigar  whole  by  springing  on  me  in 


292 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 


that  way.  And  where's  Clive  ?  Hasn't  he  come  in 
too?" 

"No,  he  hasn't,"  said  Kate,  severely,  "and  I  don't 
think  he  will  come  in  very  soon.  Dick" — and  she 
clasped  both  hands  on  his  shoulders,  to  emphasize  what 
she  was  going  to  say — "  what — do — you — think  he  has 
been  saying  to  me  ?  " 

"  What  ?"  asked  Dick,  a  half-smile  showing  at  the  cor- 
ners of  his  mouth. 

"  He  asked  me  to  marry  him  I     There  ! " 

"Oh!  indeed?  He's  got  over  it  quicker  than  I 
thought" — and  Dick  laughed.  "These  lawyer  fellows 
don't  waste  much  time  on  spooning,  to  a  certainty." 

"  Dick,  you  don't  mean  to  say  that  you  knew  he  was 
going  to — to  do  it  ?" 

"Well,  rather!  At  least,  he  spoke  to  me  at  breakfast 
this  morning,  and  I  told  him  to  try  his  chance." 

"Oh,  Dick!" 

"  And  I  hope  you  behaved  properly,  and  said,  *  Yes, 
thank  you,'  like  a  good  little  girl.  You're  uncommonly 
lucky,  let  me  tell  you,  mademoiselle ;  for  if  it  had  been 
any  one  but  old  Clive  who  had  wanted  you,  I'm  not  sure 
that  I'd  have  been  so  civil  to  him." 

"  Dick  ! — But,  oh  !  you're  joking  and  you  guess  what  I 
did  tell  him,  that  I  thought  he  was  very  impertinent,  and 
that  I'd  never  been  so  insulted  in  my  life." 

"Nonsense!     You  didn't." 

"I  did,  and  I  told  him  that  I  wouldn't  marry  him  if 
there  was  not  another  man  in  the  world;  and  that  I'd 
rather  be  an  old  maid  bv  far,  and — " 

"You  told  him  that  r 

"Yes,  indeed  I  did;  and  I  told  him  that  to  ask  me  at 
all,  after  being  as  rude  and  disagreeable  as  ever  he  could 
be  ever  since  he  came  to  the  house,  was  a  direct  insult — 
and  so  it  was,  you  know.  I  wonder  how  he  dared,  and  I 
told  him  so." 

"You  did?"  cried  Dick,  flinging  cigar  and  paper  on 
one  side,  and  jerking  Kate's  hands  off  his  shoulder  as  he 
rose  to  his  feet  in  a  tempest.  "Then  ill  never  speak  to 
you  again." 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV.  293 

"Dick!"  cried  his  sister,  pale  with  dismay. 

"Indeed  I  won't.  What !  you  went  and  abused  a  man 
like  a  fish-wife  because  he  had  the  civiHty  to  ask  you  to 
marry  him!  ^V  hy,  I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing  in  all 
my  life." 

"But  Dick — dear  Dick — don't  be  so  angry.  Mr, 
Clive  has  never  even  been  the  least  pleasant  to  me, 
or—" 

"  Bah  !  you  mean  to  say  that  he's  never  made  a  fool  of 
himself  by  simijcring  at  your  apron-strings  like  a  great 
sentimcnlal  mooncalf  If  that's  what  you  like —  Oh  ! 
I've  no  patience  witli  you.  To  go  and  treat  an  honest, 
sensible  fellow  like  Bernard  Clive — my  best  friend,  too — 
in  that  shameful  way,  and  then  to  boast  of  it  1 — I  de- 
clare it  makes  me  ashanied  to  have  a  sister." 

"Oh,  Dick!"  cried  Kate,  beginning  to  cry  quite  bro- 
ken-heartedly  at  this  severity,  "how  c-c-c-cruel  you  are! 
I  n-n-ne\'er  thought  you  would  t-lake  it  in  that  way.  Oh  ! 
I  wish  mamma  were  here." 

"  1  wish  she  were,"  retorted  her  tyrant,  austerely, 
"You'd  soon  hear  what  she'd  say." 

"I'm  sure  mamma  would  never  wish  me  to  marry  Mr. 
Clive,"  cried  Kate,  warmly. 

"Then  you're  quite  wrong,"  replied  Dick,  "for  I  be- 
lieve she'd  like  it  verv  much.  She's  alwavs  i^raisintc  him, 
and  wishing  I  were  cut  out  of  the  same  cloth,  and  that 
sort  of  rubbish  ;  and  I'm  sure  she  makes  as  much  use  of 
him  as  if  he  were  her  son-in-law  alread)-.  She'll  have  to 
give  it  up  now,  and  thank  you  for  it.      I'here  !" 

"Oh,  but.  Dick,"  i)leaded  his  sister,  with  big  tears  in 
her  eyes,  and  others  running  plentifully  down  her  flushed 
cheeks,  as  she  half  sat,  half  knelt  on  the  floor  by  the  sofa, 
her  hands  clasped  helplessly  over  the  head  of  it.  "Mam- 
ma couldn't  wish  me  to  marry  any  one  I  don't  love;  and 
I  don't  even  like  Mr.  Clive :  he  never  tried  to  make  me ; 
but  perhaps  he  is  difi"erent  with  you,  and — " 

"Different  with  me!"  echoed  Dick,  contemptuously. 
"I  should  think  he  was  difterent  with  me.  /can  ap- 
preciate him  ;  and  I've  a  good  right  to  do  so,  too.  ^Vhy, 
I  might  be  in   jail    now,  but  for  him.     He  denies  it,  of 


294  PRETTY  MISS  BELLE  IV. 

course,  but  I'm  morally  certain  he's  paying  off  those  con- 
founded debts  of  mine  out  of  his  own  earnings;  and 
when  I'm  going  to  repay  him  I  don't  know :  it'll  be  hard 
enough  to  scrape  the  interest  together.  As  for  the 
principal,  I  expect  he  knows  very  well  he  won't  see  it. — 
And  you  go  and  fly  in  his  face,  and  insult  him !  Oh  I  it's 
too  bad.  Like  him,  indeed !  If  you  were  not  so  abom- 
inably selfish,  you  would  like  him,  if  only  for  what  he's 
done  for  me.  I'd  like  to  see  any  other  of  your  fine-spoken 
lovers  doing  the  same,  or  one-half  of  it.  Why,  good 
heavens !  at  this  very  moment  I'm  depending  on  him  to 
get  me  out  of  the  deucedest  scrape  I've  ever  been  in,  in 
my  life ;  and  after  your  treatment  of  course  he'll  go  and 
throw  it  all  up,  and  turn  his  back  on  me  ;  and  I  shall 
have  a  breach  of  promise  case  on  my  shoulders,  and — " 

"  Dick,  he  would  never  do  that,"  cried  Kate,  with  an 
instinctive  confidence  in  Clive's  loyalty  which  might  have 
gratified  that  gentleman  to  hear.  "He  would  not  desert 
you  because —  Oh,  dear  !  are  you  in  earnest  ?  Is  it  any- 
thing so  dreadful  as  that  ?  " 

"Yes,  1  am  in  earnest,"  sneered  Dick,  thoroughly  beside 
himself  "And  if  you  find  it  less  dreadful  to  have  a 
grocer's  daughter  for  a  sister-in-law,  you  can.  /shouldn't 
mind.  Fanny's  a  deucedly  pretty  girl,  whatever  else  she 
is;  and  if  she  didn't  care  about  me  more  than  a  little,  she 
wouldn't  fight  for  me  as  she  does.  She  knows  very  well 
I  haven't  a  penny  to  bless  myself  with." 

"But  you  couldn't  marry!"  cried  Kate,  quite  pale  with 
horror.  "  And  a — a  grocer's —  Oh,  Dick  !  you  are  fright- 
ening me :  you  are  not  in  earnest.     Think  of  mamma." 

"  Think  of  her  yourself,"  retorted  Dick.  "  Ha  !  preach- 
ing doesn't  always  go  with  practice." 

"  I  do,"  cried  Kate,  indignantly.  "  I  always  think  of 
her.  I  wouldn't  marry  any  one  against  mamma's  wish,  if 
I  cared  for  him  ever  so  much ;  but  she  would  never  wish 
me  to  marry  a  person  I  disliked.  Oh,  Dick !  do  not  talk 
like  that.  Mr.  Clive  will  help  you  in  such  a  case.  •  He 
would  never  give  it  up  because  I  had  offended  him.  He 
is  not  so  bad  as  that." 

" Bad  !"  repeated  Dick.     "He's  a  deal  too  good  for  a 


PRETTY  MTSS  BELLE  IK  295 

girl  who  doesn't  know  how  to  value  him.  '  Help  me!' 
Yes,  I  dare  say  he  would,  if  I  let  him — if  I  were  mean 
enougli  to  let  him,  after  my  sister  had  insulted  him  so 
grossly." 

Kate  made  no  answer;  she  only  hid  her  face  and 
sobbed.  It  was  rather  hard  on  her,  for  however  she 
might  love  Dick,  and  desire  to  please  him,  she  had  not  tlie 
slightest  intention  of  pleasing  Mr.  Clive,  whom  she  did 
not  love  at  all;  and  there  was  something  very  galling  to 
her  i)ride  in  the  thought  that  lier  br^nher,  or  any  of  them, 
should  be  dependent  on  his  kindness  after  what  had 
passed.  But  then  that  hinted-at  alternative  was  so  much 
more  dreadful,  it  nearly  took  her  breath  away  even  to 
hear. 

"WouldnTany  other  lawyer  do  as  well — Mr.  Bulby  ?" 
she  ventured  to  suggest  after  a  minute  or  two. 

Mr.  Bulby  was  the  Lovegoats's  solicitor — a  very  hard, 
disagreeable  sort  of  man — and  Dick  only  sneered. 

Kate  hid  her  face  and  sobbed  again. 

"I  am  very  sorry,"  she  said,  at  last,  going  up  to  her 
brother,  and  clasping  her  hands  pleadingly  on  his  arm, 
"but  I  can't  help  it  now!  and,  Dick,  don't  be  angry  with 
me — don't,  darling.  I  couldiit  marry  Mr.  Clive — indeed 
I  couldn't." 

"You  couldn't  tell  him  so  civilly  either,  1  suppose,"  re- 
torted Dick,  not  looking  at  her,  ami  rather  drawing  himself 
out  of  the  soft  grasp  of  those  coaxing  fingers.  "It  isn't 
enough  to  humiliate  a  man  who  pays  you  the  compliment 
of  wanting  to  make  you  his  wife,  but  you  must  taunt  him 
with  his  rejection.     By  heavens! — " 

"I  am  very  sorry,"  repeated  Kate,  with  blushing  ear- 
nestness. "I  suppose  I  was  wrong;  but  he  had  pro- 
voked me,  so  I  got  into  a  passion,  and  didn't  think  what 
I  said.  If  you  knew  all —  But,  Dick,  dear,  it  is  done 
now,  and  can't  be  undone.  I  tell  you  1  am  sorry.  What 
can  I  say  more  ?" 

"Tell  him  so,"  said  Dick,  quickly.  "Write  him  a  line, 
and  apologize,  and  say  you  hope  he  won't  remember — " 

'■'■No,  Dick,"  said  Kate,  turning  scarlet  at  the  mere  idea, 
and  receding  a  step  from  her  brother,  "  I  can't  do  that.    I 


296 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 


don't  mind  saying  anything  to  you;  but  Mr.  Clive  is 
quite  another  thing.  I  could  not.  You  must  not  even 
ask  me." 

"Then  I'll  never  speak  to  you  again,"  said  Dick,  "and 
I'll  go  up  to  town  to-morrow,  and  see  Fanny,  and  let  her 

fix  the  d d  day  when  she  pleases ;  and   I'll  let  Clive 

know  he  needn't  do  anything  further  in  the  matter. 
You've  turned  him  out  of  the  house,  and  I'm  not  going 
to  make  use  of  him  !     There  !" 

He  waited  a  moment,  and  then,  finding  that  Kate 
would  not  yield  or  answer,  walked  out  of  the  room,  and 
banged  the  door  behind  him. 


CHAPTER  XXVIL 

HUMBLING   BUT  WHOLESOME. 


U 


DEAR  me,  how  very,  very  provoking!     Well,  I  am 
sorry.     If  only  I  were  with  them  !  but  I  did  think 
they  couldn't  have  got  into  any  trouble  there." 

It  was  Lady  Margaret  who  said  it.  She  was  sitting  in 
Eve's  room,  between  the  bed  and  the  window,  with  a 
heap  of  letters  in  her  lap :  while  the  invalid  girl  herself 
was  sitting  up  in  bed,  wrapped  in  a  shawl,  and  eating  her 
breakfast. 

Eve  was  getting  better,  very  much  so  ;  but  she  was  not 
yet  arrived  at  the  pitch  of  coming  downstairs,  and  had 
only  lately  been  promoted  to  lying  on  the  sofa  in  her 
mother's  room  during  part  of  the  day.  Even  that  was 
not  to  be  attemi)ted  till  she  had  had  her  l)reakfast,  and  a 
rest  afterwards ;  and,  indeed,  she  looked  as  if  she  wanted 
both.  What  with  her  eyes,  which,  always  light,  seemed 
to  have  lost  in  color  what  they  had  gained  in  size,  her 
thin,  white  face  and  spectre-like  little  hands  toying  lan- 
guidly with  the  egg-spoon,  as  though  it  were  almost  too 
heavy  to  manage,  she  looked  very  like  a  reanimated 
sj)ectre,  and  very  unlike  her  three  blooming,  bright-eyed 
sisters  at  Combe  Regis.  Lady  Margaret's  exclamation, 
uttered  in  a  tone  of  mingled  woe  and  worry,  startled  her 
into  drop]:)ing  the  spoon.  It  fell  on  the  sheet,  making  a 
yellow  stain ;  and  there  was  a  fund  of  nervous  irritation 
in  the  girl's  voice  as  she  asked : 

"Wliat's  happened  now,  mamma?  Oh,  Dick  in  some 
scrape,  of  course.  I  see  his  handwriting;  and  isn't  that 
from  Kate  ?     What  has  she  to  say  ?  " 

297 


298 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 


"  It  is  not  Dick,  and  don't  say  'of  course,'  dear,  as  if 
he  were  always  in  fault,  poor  boy!"  said  Lady  Margaret, 
rebukingly.  "  He  has  only  written  to  tell  me  of  it,  and 
so  has  Kate.  Dear,  dear!  I  am  worried.  It  is  well  Miss 
Smith  returns  to-morrow  ;  though  how  she  is  to  be  stowed 
away  there —  Well,  I  thought  Katie  would  have  man- 
aged better." 

"What  is  it?  and  what  has  Kate  done?  Do  give  me 
the  letter,  mamma.  I  hate  to  hear  little  disjointed  bits 
of  a  thing,"  cried  Eye,  stretching  out  one  of  the  skeleton 
claws  aforesaid  with  an  impatience  which  would  have  of- 
fended many  a  stricter  parent.  Lady  Margaret,  how- 
ever, was  not  given  to  taking  offense.  Her  children  all 
ruled  her,  more  or  less ;  but  the  one  she  was  with  for  the 
time  being  was,  of  course,  the  rex  de  facto ;  and  though 
Lady  Margaret  retained  the  letter  in  her  own  hand,  she 
did  not  resent  the  order  to  give  it  up. 

"  I  can't  show  it  to  you,  love,  because  Katie  has  put 
'private'  on  it,"  she  said,  apologetically.  "And,  indeed, 
such  things  are  better  not  talked  about." 

"  But  you  are  talking  about  it,"  cried  Eve,  more  fret- 
fully than  before.  "And  as  to  Katie's  putting  'private,' 
she  would  tell  me  in  a  moment  if  she  were  here.  She 
never  had  a  secret  of  her  own  in  her  life.  I  don't  think 
she  could  keep  one  if  she  tried.  Do  make  haste  and  tell 
me  about  it,  mother.  Has  any  one  proposed  to  her  ?  I 
suppose  so.  Who  is  it  ?  The  curate,  I  suppose.  She  said 
she  hadn't  seen  a  man  in  the  village  except  the  vicar  and 
his  curate." 

"Meaning  gentlemen,"  put  in  Lady  Margaret.  "But 
it  is  not  the  curate.  It  is — a  friend  of  ours.  I  won't 
mention  his  name,  for  of  course  he  wouldn't  like  it 
bruited  about ;  and,  indeed,  he  has  not  been  well  treated 
as  it  is.  It  is  that  which  vexes  me  so  much :  a  friend 
that  one  is  really  indebted  to,  and  depends  on  !  It  is  a 
great  pity,"  and  Lady  Margaret  sighed  woefully.  She 
had  been  making  a  sort  of  right  hand  of  Clive  in  virtue 
of  that  distant  connectionship  of  his  with  the  Bellews, 
and  had  spared  herself  thus  from  more  than  one  un- 
pleasant interview  with  the  hard-faced  Mr.  Bulby.     And 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 


>99 


then  he  was  such  a  good  friend  for  Dick.     It  was  too 
bad  that  it  should  all  come  to  an  end  this  way. 

"  A  friend  we  are  indebted  to,"  repeated  Eve,  keenly. 
"Do  you  mean  Mr.  M'Kenzie,  for  taking  care  of 
George?  But  Kate  likes  him.  I  know  she  does.  How 
has  she  treated  him  badly  ?" 

"No,  I  didn't  m^an  Mr.  M'Kenzie,"  said  Lady  Mar- 
garet; "though  indeed,  now  you  suggest  it,  I  shouldn't 
wonder  if  he  too —  Dear  me !  Could  that  have  been 
wliat  they  quarreled  about  ?  Kate  says  Bernard  Clive 
was  so  jealous  and  disagreeable,  and  as  they  did  tjuar- 
rel— " 

"Bernard  Clive  I"  cried  Eve,  pushing  aside  her  tray, 
and  leaning  forward  in  the  excitement  of  the  moment. 
"You  don't  mean  to  say  he  wants  to  marry  Kate!  Has 
she  refused  him  ?  Wliaiever  could  he  have  been  thinking 
of?  Why,  she  could  no  more  appreciate  him  than  fly. 
Oh,  mamma!  do  make  haste  and  give  me  the  letter.  It 
is  so  tantalizing  of  you  to  go  on  in  this  way." 

And  then  Lady  Margaret,  not  having  strength  to  resist 
longer,  did  tell  Eve  the  whole  story  as  gathered  from  the 
rather  contradictory  letters  of  her  son  and  daughter.  She 
dill  not  give  up  the  letters,  because  of  "private"  being  on 
them ;  but  she  told  all  that  they  contained,  and  read  bits 
I'rom  them  aloud  every  here  and  there,  which  would  prob- 
ably have  come  to  much  the  same  thing  in  the  writers' 
estimation.  If  Kate  could  not  keep  a  secret,  assuredly 
she  had  inherited  the  disability  from  her  mother.  Eve 
listened  eagerlv,  then  broke  in  : 

"But,  mamma,  I  don't  understand,  ^^'hat  is  Mr. 
M'Kenzie  doing  there?" 

"  He  is  not  there  now.  Eve ;  he  left  before  Bernard 
Clive." 

"  But  what  was  he  doing  there  ?" 

"He  took  George  down  to  see  them.  Don't  you  re- 
member Kate  writing  about  it,  and  saying  how  kind  it 
was  of  him  to  humor  George  when  he  saw  him  moping, 
poor  child  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  remember ;  but  I  never  thought  he  had  stayed 
there.  Mamma,  I  don't  think  Kate  has  behaved  at  all 
well." 


300 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 


"I'm  afraid  she  has  been  a  tiny  bit  imprudent,  and  not 
quite  as  careful  of  the  poor  fellow's  feelings  as  she  might 
have  been,"  said  Lady  Margaret,  gently.  '-It  is  a  great 
pity  they  were  there  at  the  same  time,  and  with  no  older 
person.     If  only  Miss  Smith — " 

"Do  you  think  they  would  mind  Miss  Smith?"  Eve 
put  in,  "or  that  they  would  have  stayed  there  unless  Kate 
wished  it?  She  is  never  happy  unless  she  is  flirting,  and 
making  people  wretched." 

"  My  darling,  you  must  not  be  so  severe.  I  don't  think 
poor  Katie  has  the  least  intention  of  flirting  ;  but  if  people 
will  admire  her — and  then  she  is  so  young — not  yet 
twenty ! " 

"I  am  not  yet  sixteen,"  said  Eve,  shutting  up  her  pale 
little  lips  rigidly,  "but  I'm  sure  I  wouldn't  take  advantage 
of  being  trusted  alone,  to  have  two  gentlemen  there,  and 
flirt  with  them,  and  make  them  quarrel  with  one  another, 
and  then,  when  she's  got  one  to  propose,  laugh  at  and  be 
rude  to  him — " 

"Oh!  Eve,  my  dear  child,  don't  talk  in  that  dreadful 
way,"  cried  Lady  Margaret,  walking  up  and  down,  her 
cap  all  awry,  and  her  forehead  puckered  up,  in  great  dis- 
tress. "  I  can't  bear  to  hear  of  such  thoughts  coming  into 
your  head.  But  there!  it  is  only  because  you  are  ill  and 
weak,  my  poor  child.  I  oughtn't  to  have  talked  to  you 
of  this.  Lie  down  and  rest,  while  I  go  and  write  to 
Kate." 

"What  will  you  say  to  her?"  asked  Eve,  unheeding  the 
first  part  of  the  sentence.  "  Mamma,  I  think  Dick  is 
quite,  quite  right.  She  ought  to  apologize.  He  is  very 
silly  generally,  but  he  is  right  in  that.  If  she  does  not, 
Mr.  Clive  will  never  come  near  us  again.  Dick  will  be 
very  cross  if  he  loses  his  companion  through  Miss  Katie's 
flirting;  and  he  says  that  unless  she  apologizes — " 

"I  am  going  to  write  to  her  now.  Dear  Evey,  do 
rest,"  Lady  Margaret  said,  and  went  away  to  her  desk,  as  if 
in  half  fear  that  Eve  would  write  the  letter  for  her  if  she 
were  not  prom])t  al)Out  it.  She  had  taken  Kate's  part 
with  her  second  daughter;  but,  all  the  same,  the  latter's 
reprobation  had  not  been  without  effect  on  her  plastic 


PRE  TTY  MISS  BELLE  IV.  301 

mind;  and  the  letter,  when  written,  was  by  no  means  so 
sympathetic  and  heali-ng  as  Kate  had  exj^ected. 

Poor  Kate '  she  had  held  out  two  days  in  spite  of 
Dick's  stubborn  adherence  to  his  threat,  but  she  was  des- 
perately unhappy  at  so  doing.  I  don't  think  she  really 
detested  a  little  quarrel  now  and  then,  even  with  a  friend, 
so  it  was  a  good  stand-up  fight  of  words,  which  let  off  steam 
for  the  time  being,  and  entailed  a  more  loving  reconcilia- 
tion afterwards;  but  to  live  in  ill-will  with  any  one  was 
quite  a  different  thing,  and  to  live  in  ill-will  with  Dick  I — 
Oh  !  ft  was  too  dreadful.  When  she  had  gone  to  kiss 
him  on  that  night,  he  had  turned  away  his  head,  and 
given  her  a  little  push  with  his  elbow;  and  Kate  had  to 
retreat  with  brinnning  eyes  and  a  heart  too  wounded  to 
attempt  any  further  salute  than  a  timid  "Good  morning" 
on  the  following  day.  To  this  she  only  got  a  grunt  for 
answer,  and  Dick  did  not  open  his  lips  to  her  once.  He 
went  out  immediately  after  breakfast,  and  stayed  out  all 
day,  and  only  came  back  at  past  midnight,  smelling 
strongly  of  tobacco  and — worse. 

And  now  came  Lady  Margaret's  letter,  plaintively  re- 
buking, deploring  the  breach  with  Clive,  regretting 
M'Kenzie's  visit,  intimating  that  Kate  must  have  been 
indiscreet,  even  while  excusing  her  indiscretion  on  the 
score  of  her  being  such  a  child  (dive's  verv  plea!) — 
wishing  that  there  were  any  means  of  softening  the  latter's 
rejection ;  and  urging  that  if  his  manner  had  been  want- 
ing in  suavity,  the  fact  of  his  love  for  her  ought  to  have 
pleaded  as  an  excuse. 

All  this  seemed  very  hard  to  Kate,  more  especially  as 
her  own  conscience  was  quite  sharp  enough  with  her, 
without  requiring  any  accusing  tongues  to  prompt  it. 
She  knew  that  she  had  not  Hirted ;  that  she  had,  oh  the 
contrary,  tried  to  behave  with  extra  discretion  and  pru- 
dence; and  therefore  her  mother's  gently  regretful  surmises 
to  the  contrary  did  not  so  much  aflhct  her;  but  when  she 
looked  back  at  that  scene  on  the  sea-shore  her  cheeks 
tingled,  and  she  did  wish  that  it  had  not  taken  place.  It 
was  very  nice  to  snub  Mr.  Clive  at  the  time,  and  punish 
his  presumption  by  putting  him  down  so  severely  that  he 


302 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 


would  never  be  tempted  to  presume  again  ;  but  now  that 
the  heat  of  contest  was  over,  and  the  triumph  of  victory 
dead,  she  did  begin  to  ask  herself,  had  she  not  been  a 
little  unfeminine  and  wanting  in  gentleness  ?  and  might  it 
not  be  possible  that,  instead  of  asserting  her  dignity  and 
title  to  respect  in  Clive's  eyes,  she  had,  on  the  contrary, 
pushed  them  down  lower  than  they  were  before  ? 

As  every  one  ca2:)able  of  understanding  a  young  lady's 
feelings  at  all  can  easily  comprehend  how  horrible  this 
idea  was,  bringing  cold  shivers  over  every  inch  of  Kate's 
sensitive  skin,  I  need  say  nothing  more  about  that  part 
of  the  subject. 

And  Dottie  loved  him,  and  wailed  when  told  that  he 
was  not  to  come  back  and  "play  wis  her." 

And  Dick  valued  him  so  much  that  he  would  not  even 
forgive,  or  speak  to  her,  for  her  treatment  of  his  friend. 

What  could  she  do  but  yield  ? 

She  had  been  proud  and  triumphant  in  speaking  her 
mind  to  Clive,  and  punishing  him  ;  but  the  punishment 
that  had  fallen  upon  her  in  return  was  so  severe  that  un- 
consciously she  began  to  pity  her  own  victim,  and  regret 
her  own  victory. 

On  the  morning  of  the  third  day  she  came  up  to  Dick 
just  as  he  was  going  out,  and  gave  him  a  letter — un- 
sealed. 

"Will  you  post  it  ?"  she  said.  "  I  have  written  to  Mr. 
Clive,  and  told  him  that " — a  great  gulp,  as  if  the  words 
were  too  hard  to  bring  forth — "that  I  am  sorry  I  was — 
was" — another  gulp,  and  the  cheeks  burning — "so  harsh 
in  answering  him ;  and — that — but  you  can  read  it  for 
yourself,"  and  then  she  dashed  out  into  the  garden,  and 
had  a  good  thunder-shower  cry  of  real  mortification  and 
humbled  pride. 

Dick  opened  the  letter  at  once,  and  with  a  smile  of 
great  satisfaction.  He  had  not  in  the  least  expected  Kate 
to  give  way,  and  was  the  more  angry  with  her  because  he 
did  not  know  how  to  come  down  off  his  own  high  horse' 
without  compromise  to  his  dignity.  "She  has  changed  her 
mind,  and  wants  to  have  him  back.  She'd  never  have 
done  it  otherwise,"   was  his  immediate  idea :    his  own 


PRE  I  TY  MISS  BELLE  W.  303 

mind  not  being  even  able  to  graze  the  outside  shell  of  his 
sister's. 

The  contents  of  the  note  undeceived  him. 

"Dear  Mr.  Clive"  (it  said), — '-Since  I  parted  from 
you  the  other  day,  I  have  thought  that  I  was,  perhaps, 
hastier  and  less  courteous  in  my  way  of  answering  you 
than  1  should  have  been.  I  ought  to  have  told  you  that, 
though  I  could  not  do  as  you  wished,  I  thanked  you  for 
wishing  it;  but  I  was  irritated  and  forgot  myself  Will 
you  please  forget  it  also,  and  believe  that  1  understand 
your  good  will  in  making  me  the  offer  you  did,  and  am 
sorry  for  having  spoken  scornfully  of  it.  1  should  be 
more  sorry  if  any  misunderstandings  between  us  were  to 
diminish  your  friendship  for  my  brother,  or  prevent  your 
coming  to  us  as  freely  as  before. 

"I  am,  very  truly  yours, 

"Katherine  Bellew. 

"To  Bernard  Clive,  Esfp, 

"4,  Churcli  Pont  Chambers,  Temple." 

Clive  was  hard  at  work  in  the  above-mentioned  cham- 
bers when  Kate's  note  was  given  to  him  ;  and  as,  accord- 
ing to  habit,  he  glanced  first  at  the  signature,  his  heart 
did  assuredly  beat  much  faster  than  was  its  wont.  I 
don't  think  that  Dick's  idea  came  into  his  head;  Kate's 
language  on  the  beach  having  been  far  too  forcible  for 
such  a  hope;  but  he  did  think  something  out-of-the-way 
had  happened,  to  bring  him  a  letter  from  the  young  lady 
who  had  dismissed  him  with  so  much  contumely:  and  I 
doubt  what  Kate  would  have  thought  of  the  softened 
look  which  came  over  his  face,  a  minute  back  so  hard  and 
worn-looking,  as  he  read  the  little  note  whose  very  calig- 
raphy  told  of  the  writer's  difficulty  in  putting  her  re- 
pentance on  paper. 

"  Poor,  dear  little  girl !  Who  would  have  thought  it 
of  her!"  he  said,  half  aloud,  and  then  he  put  the  paper 
where  Kate's  dimpled  hand  had  rested  to  his  lips. 

Kindness  is  sometimes  rather  cruel. 

When  Clive  left  Kate  on  the  beach,  the  sharpness  of 
her  words  had  almost  turned  his  love  to  hatred ;  and  yet 
as  he  went  away  from  her  the  question  would  force  itself 


304  PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 

upon  him — was  there  not  something  in  them  after  all; 
and  had  he  not  laid  himself  open  to  her  accusations  by 
the  manner  in  which  he  had  gone  about  his  wooing  ? 

Perfectly  honest  and  upright  himself,  he  had  from  the 
first  entertained  an  instinctive  confidence  in  the  outspo- 
ken truth  and  honesty  of  Kate  Bellew.     What  she  said 
he  knew  he  might  believe  in;  and,  therefore,  when  she 
spoke  her  mind  to  him  on  the  sands  at  Combe  Regis,  he 
not  only  believed  that  what  she  said  she  did  mean,  but 
that  in  what    she   said   there    must    be  truth.      He  had 
wronged  M'Kenzie;    that  was  true.      He  had  desired  to 
break  off  the  intimacy  between  that  gentleman  and  the 
Bellews  when  he  thought  the  former  unworthy  of  it ;  that 
was  also  true.     Might  he  not  have  wronged  Kate  as  well 
in  not  treating  her  with  due  consideration  and  deference  ? 
Yes,  it  was  possible  that  she  might  be   right  in  much 
that  she  had  said,  but — and  there  was  the  sting — the  fact 
of  her  saying  it  made  her  wrong.     It  was  unladylike,  un- 
gentle, worse — unwomanly;  and  on  him,  whose  ideal  of 
woman   was  something  essentially    gentle,   ladylike    and 
feminine,  it  grated  like  the  ragged  edge  of  a  knife  upon 
the  naked  fiesh.     However  strong  and  clever  a  woman 
may  be,  no  man  likes  her  to  show  her  strength  and  clev- 
erness at   his  expense.     She  may  be  strong  in  upholding 
his  honor,  and  clever  in  appreciating  himself,  but  the  less 
she  is  even  aware  of  these  powers,  the  more  lovable  she 
will  be.     It  is  better  that,  like  Ruth  of  old,  she  should 
say,  "Why  have  I  found  grace  in  thine  eyes?"  than  count 
up  her  own  graces  and  exalt  them  as  superior  to  his  own. 
They  shvuld  be  superior — there  is  no  doubt  of  that — in 
purity,  sweetness,  and  unselfishness  ;  but  (and  this  is  after 
all  a  woman's  chief  merit)  she  should  think  them  inferior, 
and,  in  mind  as  well  as  will,  subject  herself  with   due 
meekness  to  the  monarch  of  creation. 

Kate  had  broken  through  this  unwritten  code  of  hu- 
manity, and  asserted  her  "  rights."  Clive  acknowledged 
them,  but  in  so  doing,  his  love  for  her  dried  up  and  with- 
ered for  the  time,  as  a  plant  will  do  beneath  an  August 
sun.  A  unicorn  is  a  very  magnificent  animal,  but  "one 
doesn't  care  to  take  it  in  one's  arms  and  fondle  it.     Clive 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE W. 


305 


felt  no  disposition  to  take  Kate  in  his  arms  after  he  had 
once  seen  her,  as  it  were,  prancing  in  defiance  and  scorn 
of  his  leonine  self. 

And  now  her  letter  had  come,  not  unsaying  what  she 
had  said,  not  retracting  anything  from  her  decision,  rather 
confirming  and  strengthening  it ;  but  owning  her  error 
with  the  frank  simplicity  of  a  child,  and  asking  his  pardon 
with  the  franker  grace  of  a  w-oman.  Cold  and  stiff  as  the 
words  might  seem,  he  read  her  nature  in  them  better  than 
he  had  ever  done  before,  a  nature  so  variable  and  yet  so 
true,  so  faulty  and  yet  so  ready  to  acknowledge  its  faults. 

Kate's  kindness  had  indeed  been  cruel,  and  it  was  some 
hours  before  he  could  command  himself  sufficiently  to 
answer  it.  When  he  did  so,  however,  his  letter  betrayed 
litde  of  the  tempest  which  had  preceded  it. 

"My  Dear  Mis.s  Bkllew, — 1  thank  you  very  heartily 
for  your  note.  You  have  shown  me  how  frank  and  gen- 
erous a  woman  can  be,  and  1  shall  not  forget  the  lesson. 
I  do  not  dis]nite  the  truth  of  anything  that  you  said  in 
our  last  interview ;  and  yet  I  am  grateful  to  you  for  re- 
gretting it,  because  it  proves  to  me  that  my  love,  however 
fruitless,  was  not  thrown  away  without  good  and  worthy 
cause.  I  can  only  ask  you  in  conclusion  to  forgive  my 
harshness  of  speech,  with  all  else  that  has  offended  you, 
and  to  believe  that  if  I  can  be  of  any  use  to  you  or  yours, 
I  shall  be  glad  if  you  will  consider  me 

'•  Your  sincere  Friend, 

"Bernard  Clive. 

"To  MissBellew, 

"Bloom  Cottage,  Combe  Regis." 

"He  is  as  proud  a.s — I  never  saw  any  man  so  proud," 
said  Kate,  to  herself  "Every  word  shows  that,  and 
yet —  Well,  I'm  not  .sorry  I  wrote.  Dick  has  forgiven 
me,  at  any  rate,  and  it  is  so  much  pleasanter  to  be  good 
friends  with  people." 
20 


M 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

KATE  ASKS  ADVICE. 

RS.  GREY  was  sitting  in  a  large  chintz-covered  arm- 
chair near  the  window,  her  head  turned  back  against 
the  cushions,  her  hands  lying  wearily  over  some  piece  of 
plain  sewing  in  her  lap.  The  evening  light  fell  across  the 
lattice  panes,  and  threw  a  checkered  yellow  glow  upon 
the  pale  beautiful  face  over  which  sorrow  and  sickness 
were  slowly  weaving  a  mortal  cloud.  She  did  not  even 
open  her  eyes  to  greet  the  kiss  of  the  sunbeams  as  they 
flickered  through  the  green-gold  tapestry  of  vine-leaves 
at  the  window;  or  see  how  one  red  slanting  beam  had 
illumined  with  a  living  glory  her  picture,  which  stood 
finished  upon  the  easel  before  her.  She  was  weary, 
utterly  spent  and  weary,  dying  of  loneliness  and  starva- 
tion— that  worst  starvation  of  the  heart;  and  within  that 
heart  was  only  one  prayer  and  one  hope,  that  so  forcibly 
expressed  by  the  Psalmist: 

"  Reproach  hath  broken  my  heart,  and  I  am  full  of  heav- 
iness ;  and  I  looked  for  some  to  take  pity  on  me,  but  there 
was  none ;  and  for  comforters,  but  I  found  none." 

-She  had  now  been  at  the  farmhouse  for  three  weeks, 
and  to  her  feelings  it  might  have  been  three  years,  or  even 
more;  and  perhaps  the  mild  gleam  of  excitement  created 
by  Kate's  appearance  and  visit  had  made  her  doubly  sen- 
sible of  the  subsequent  blank.  At  first  the  young  girl's 
lively  interest  in,  and  admiration  of,  her  sketch,  had  spurred 
her  to  taking  more  interest  in  it  herself  She  had  worked 
at  it  hard  during  the  three  days  after  Kate's  visit,  sitting 
306 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE Wl 


307 


at  it  till  the  dusk  of  twilight  rendered  longer  painting  im- 
practicable ;  and  it  was  now  completed ;  but  the  last 
evening  had  been  very  damp,  and  she,  being  only  re- 
cently recovered  from  the  nervous  illness  which  had  fol- 
lowed on  her  departure  from  Lady  Vanborough's,  caught 
a  severe  feverish  cold,  which  again  confined  her  to  her 
room,  and  left  her  almost  as  weak  as  a  child. 

If  Kate  had  come  then,  how  welcome  she  would  have 
been  !  But  Kate  was  otherwise  occupied,  and  had  no 
time  to  spare  for  thinking  of  the  lonely  inmate  of  that 
homelv  farmhouse. 

The  little  farmhouse  maid  waited  on  the  invalid  very 
civilly.  The  farmer's  wife  looked  in  morning  and  even- 
ing to  hope  as  "her  wur  doin'  noicely  like  :"  and  now  and 
then  the  farmer's  baby  toddled  to  the  door,  finger  in 
mouth,  to  gaze  with  wide-open  wondering  eyes  at  the  poor 
sick  lady  with  the  pretty  hair,  and  whose  face  always 
melted  into  such  a  longing,  loving  smile,  when  his  round 
and  ruddy  one  appeared  in  the  doorway.  Once  or  twice 
Mrs.  Grey  had  coaxed  him  in,  and,  by  means  of  "sweet- 
ies," installed  him  on  her  knee,  where  he  sat  in  huge  con- 
tent till,  taking  sudden  alarm  at  the  unwonted  amount  of 
kissing  and  fondling  bestowed  upon  him.  his  fat  under  lip 
was  protruded  in  most  ])ortentous  fashion,  his  small  face 
puckered  itself  up;  and  he  was  swiftly  removed  by  the 
little  inaid,  in  fear  of  one  of  those  direful  roars  which, 
once  evoked,  are  by  no  means  so  easy  to  still.  Mrs. 
Grey  would  fain  have  kept  him  with  her,  roar  or  no, 
and  soothed  him  into  happiness  again  with  more  sweeties; 
but  the  little  maid  was  decided  on  the  subject,  and  Enoch 
Stebbings  was  forcibly  evicted,  and  seen  no  more  for  the 
day. 

If  only  he  had  been  her  own,  to  hold  and  kiss  and  keep 
with  her  against  all  the  world  !  If  even  she  had  had  the 
remembrance  of  such  a  child  to  cherish  in  her  heart  of 
hearts,  and  know  was  hers  still  in  heaven,  though  God.  in 
that*inscrutable  wisdom  which  is  so  hard,  so  pitifully  hard, 
to  fathom  on  earth,  had  seen  fit  to  take  it  from  her  for 
awhile!  To  many  women  it  would  have  seemed  better 
never  to  have  had  a  thing  than  to  have  been  robbed  of  it, 


3o8 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 


to  have  given  up  the  transient  pleasure  rather  than  suffer 
the  after-pain.  It  had  been  so  with  Mrs.  Grey  in  the 
days  of  her  health.  She  had  even  thanked  God  that  she 
was  childless,  as  for  a  great  mercy,  and  shivered  to  think 
Avhat  the  life  of  any  child  of  hers  might  have  been.  It 
was  not  so  now.  When  the  bodily  health  is  strong  and 
firm,  the  mind  may  well  be  firm  and  strong  also;  but 
pain  and  sickness  had  shivered  that  calm  gentleness  and 
patience  which  had  withstood  so  many  an  onslaught 
from  without;  and  with  the  new  sense  of  weakness 
came  a  great  yearning  to  have  some  one  at  her  side, 
something  of  her  own  to  love  and  be  loved  by. 

"  'Tis  better  to  have  loved  and  lost  than  never  to  have 
loved  at  all." 

It  has  come  to  a  sad  pass  when  a  woman  sits  and 
craves  for  even  the  shadow  of  a  past  love;  for  the  little 
knitted  boot  telling  of  the  baby-feet  that  had  once  pat- 
tered at  her  side;  the  lock  of  hair  which  once  grew  on 
a  strong  man's  head — lock  which  has  often  mingled  with 
her  own,  when  it  rested  on  her  shoulder,  in  the  buried 
days  of  old. 

Mrs.  Grey  had  no  such  relics.  The  baby-boot  had 
never  been  needed.  The  lock  of  hair  had  been  burned 
long  ago  with  the  stern  determination  of  duty — the  duty 
to  forget. 

"  How  do  you  do  ?  and  may  I  come  in  ?" 

With  a  quick,  nervous  start,  strongly  suggestive  of  her 
weakened  nerves,  the  invalid  opened  her  eyes,  and  saw  at 
the  window,  framed  in  green  .vine-leaves,  and  relieved 
against  the  golden  sky,  a  fair  young  face,  with  sweet,  red 
lips  parted  in  a  smile,  half  saucy  and  half  shy,  with 
rounded,  glowing  cheeks,  and  eyes  sweeter  and  more 
glowing  than  lips  or  cheeks,  smiling  in  at  her  from  under 
the  shadow  of  a  broad  straw  hat,  and  over  the  pots  of 
scarlet-blossomed  geraniums  which  lined  the  window- 
sill. 

"Are  you  at  home?"  asked  Kate,  resting  her  rc^nd 
white  chin  on  the  broad  geranium-leaves,  and  smiling  in 
happy  confidence  of  not  being  said  "No"  to.  Clive's 
letter  had  unconsciously  rehabilitated  her  in  that  pleasant 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 


309 


position  from  which  she  had  been  so  rudely  ousted  by 
Clive's  words. 

"  How  ill  you  are  looking !  You  have  been  worse, 
much  worse,  I'm  sure;  and,  oh,  what  a  wretch  I  am!" 

"Yes,  I  have  been  worse,"  said  Mrs.  Grey,  smiling  too, 
but  with  that  soft  gentle  smile  which  had  less  of  gladness 
than  sweetness  in  it.  "But  I  don't  know  what  that  has 
to  do  with  your  being  a  wretch.  Come  in  and  tell  me 
what  makes  you  call  yourself  one.  It  is  very  kind  of  you 
to  come  so  far  to  see  me,"  she  added,  when  Kate  had 
obeyed.  "Do  you  know  I  was  thinking  of  you  a  great 
deal  this  morning,  and  wondering  if  I  should  ever  see 
you  again." 

"I  should  think  you  were  wondering!"  retorted  Kate, 
with  a  sort  of  comic  remorse.  "Ten  days — nearly  a  fort- 
night— isn't  it?  And  I  was  to  have  come  back  in  a  day 
or  two  to  see  the  picture  finished  !  What  a  horrid,  neg- 
lectful, promise-breaking  sort  of  person  you  must  think 
me!" 

"On  the  contrary,  I  think  you  a  very  nice  little  person," 
said  Mrs.  Grey,  smiling.  Kate's  sunshiny  presence  had 
swept  the  clouds  out  of  her  mind  like  breath  from  a  glass. 

"  It  is  very  good  of  you  to  come  and  see  me  at  all. 
And  as  to  the  jjicture,  there  it  is,  ready  for  )our  inspection. 
AMiat  do  you  think  of  it  ?  " 

"  I  ?  "  said  Kate,  drawing  back  from  the  canvas  over 
which  she  had  been  stooping,  and  ])utting  her  head  on 
one  side  to  view  it  a  T  arfislc.  "  ^Vhy,  I'll  tell  you.  I 
think  you  are  some  grand  painter  come  down  here  in- 
cognito. And,  by  the  way,  are  you  aware  that  you 
haven't  told  me  your  name  yet  ?  " 

She  turned  round  as  she  spoke,  fixing  her  bright,  frank 
eyes  in  innocent  intpiiry  on  Mrs.  Grey's  face;  and  over 
the  transparent  whiteness  of  the  latter  crept  a  faint  dull 
flush. 

"  If  only  I  could  tell  her  truly,"  was  the  painful  thought 
hicRlen  in  a  moment's  hesitation,  and  then  came  the  an- 
swer : 

"Clewer— Edith  Clewer." 

'"Miss  or  Mrs.?'  (Quotation  from  Wilkie  Collins — 


3 1  o  PKE  TT  Y  MISS  BELLE  IV. 

ahem  I)"  laughed  Kate.  "Don't  you  feel  as  if  you  were 
saying  your  catechism — 'M  or  N,  as  the  case  may  be?' 
but  you  see  one  must  know  how  to  call  you." 

"Mrs.,"  said  Mrs.  Grey,  quietly. 

"Thank  you,"  said  Kate.  "I  hardly  needed  to  ask 
that,  though;  for  I  had  somehow  so  taken  it  for  granted 
that  I  never  thought  of  looking  at  your  left  hand.  Of 
course,"  with  a  merry  laugh,  "  Mrs.  Clevver  is  only  a  ficti- 
tious title!" 

"Only  a — I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  but  as  she 
spoke  the  widow's  transient  color  faded  out  into  a  deader 
white  than  before;  and  Kate  grew  carnation  crimson 
under  the  stern  look  in  her  eyes. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  she  said,  impulsively.  "Don't 
lie  vexed  with  me,  for  I  was  only  joking;  but  don't  you 
know  how  authors  take  noms  de plume  ?  and  I  thought  if 
you  were  a  swell  artist  you  might  only  condescend  to 
give  us  your  no?n  de — what's  the  name  for  paint-brush? 
but  it  was  only  in  fun.  I  hope  you  are  not  vexed,"  the 
last  words  said  so  earnestly  that  Mrs.  Grey  put  out  her 
hand  with  a  smile  at  once  reassuring  and  reassured. 

"  Vexed  !   No,"  she  said.     "  Why  should  you  think  it  ?  " 

"You  looked  as  if  you  were." 

"Don't  pay  heed  to  my  looks  then.  An  invalid  is  not 
accountable  for  them.  Tell  me  instead  what  the  world 
has  been  doing  with  you  all  this  while." 

"  Just  what  I'm  going  to  do,"  said  Kate,  briskly;  "that 
is,  to  show  you  why  I  haven't  been  here.  But,  besides, 
I  want  toask  your  advice  dreadfully;  only  it  is  so  diffi- 
cult to  know  where  to  begin." 

"Try  the  beginning,"  suggested  Mrs.  Grey,  pleasantly. 
"When  I  saw  you  last  you  had  a  sister  dangerously  ill, 
and—" 

"  Oh  !  well,  she's  getting  all  right  now.  Mamma  has 
taken  her  down  to  Eastbourne,  and  as  soon  as  the  doctor 
says  it  is  quite  safe  we  are  going  to  join  them.  She  took 
the  turn  on  the  day  I  had  intended  coming  to  see  you 
again,  only  I  was  prevented  by  Mr.  M' — by  a  person 
coming  to  see  us." 

Kate  stopped  here  to  swallow  a  great  annoying  blush, 


PRE  TT  y  MISS  BELLE  IV.  3  j  i 

which  would  somehow  creep  all  over  her  pretty  face  and 
throat;  and  Mrs.  Grey  smiled. 

"Well?  "she  said. 

•'The — the  person — a  friend  of  ours,  stayed  for  three 
or  four  days,"  Kate  went  on,  with  extra  dignity,  to  com- 
pensate for  the  blush  which  declined  to  go  away.  "  He 
came  all  the  way  from  London,  you  see ;  so  he  wanted  a 
rest ;  and  indeed  his  visit  was  not  so  much  to  us,  as  to 
please  my  little  brother,  who  was  staying  with  him,  and 
had  got  homesick  for  a  sight  of  us.  Don't  you  think  it 
was  very  kind  of  him  to  humor  the  l)oy?  " 

"Very  kind,"  said  Mrs.  Grey,  smiling  still. 

'•  I  like  to  see  grown-up  people  fond  of  dogs  and  chil- 
dren.    It  is  a  good  trait,  I  think,"  said  Kate,  solemnly. 

Mrs.  Grey  acquiesced. 

"  And  of  course,  though  it  gave  me  a  good  deal  to  do, 
it  was  very  pleasant  to  have  George  back  with  us.  George 
is  my  brother,"  added  Kate,  quickly,  as  anxious  to  show 
that  the  visitor  harl  nothing  to  do  with  her  pleasure. 

Mrs.  Grey  nodded. 

"And  then  Mr.  Clive  came.  You  know  him — about 
him,  I  mean  ?" 

"In  connection  with — with  Mrs.  Grey,"  put  in  the  in- 
valid, not  coloring,  but  with  evident  distress.  "But  you 
don't  mean  to  say  that  he  is — here  !  " 

"//dVY."' — opening  big  brown  eyes  of  horror — "Oil, 
dear!  no;  of  course  not.  He  went  away  directly  after- 
wards— I  mean" — with  some  confusion — "he  only  stayed 
two  days." 

The  anxious  look  faded  out  of  Mrs.  Grey's  face,  and 
she  breathed  freely. 

"Not  a  very  long  visit,"  she  said,  with  well-bred  ignor- 
ing of  Kate's  slip  of  the  tongue. 

"That  depends,"  answered  the  girl,  petulantly.  "It 
may  be  two  days  too  long  if  people  don't  get  on  well 
together.  But  there !  I'm  not  going  to  blame  ///;//,"  she 
adtled,  with  some  remorse.  "I  do  believe  he  means  well, 
and  that  it  is  only  his  way.  Besides,  I  was  wrong  my- 
selt ;  but  it  is  so  unpleasant  when  one  visitor  makes  him- 
self disagreeable  to  another,  and   for  no  reason   at  all. 


312 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 


Mr.  M' — the  other  person,  is  so  different,  so  gentle 
and  pleasant,  and  not  a  bit  hke  the  young  men  about 
town.  I  get  very  tired  of  London  young  men,  do  you 
know,"  said  Kate,  with  a  sigh  of  middle-aged  weariness 
for  the  follies  of  youth.  "They  are  so — so  frigiitfully 
same  and  idealess.  If  only  one  of  them  would  try  to 
pronounce  his  r's,  and  care  a  little  about  anything,  it 
would  be  a  relief;  but  when  it's  'bad  form'  to  talk,  or 
look,  or  act  among  women  as  if  you  were  anything  but  a 
rag  doll  stuffed  with  sawdust — well,  one  can't  help  feel- 
ing it's  pleasant  to  meet  a  person  who  has  something  in 
him,  and  doesn't  mind  showing  it." 

"  Very  pleasant,"  said  Mrs.  Grey,  smiling,  and  stroking 
the  pretty  hand  which  rested  on  the  arm  of  her  chair, 
as  one  might  stroke  a  kitten's  back,  half  uncoJisciously ; 
"but,  do  you  know,  1  think  Bernard  Clive  has  a  great 
deal  in  him.  At  least" — recollecting  herself — "I  have 
always  heard  so." 

"Exactly  zuhy  I  dislike  him,"  retorted  Kate.  "Yes" 
— in  answer  to  a  mild  look  of  wonder  in  the  blue  eyes 
facing  her — "for  if  a  person  is  a  rag  doll  stuffed  with 
sawdust  he  can't  help  it;  but  to  know  that  a  man  is 
clever  and  sensible,  but  that  he  doesn't  think  it  worth 
while  to  throw  away  either  quality  on  you,  except  to 
snub  you,  because  you're  only  a  girl — well,  girls  don't 
like  it,  whatever  they  may  think." 

There  was  a  dash  of  bitterness  in  the  tone,  and  Mrs. 
Grey,  reading  it  by  the  light  of  her  greater  experience, 
said  to  herself: 

"If  Bernard  knew  how,  he  might  win  her  yet — but  for 
the  'other  person.'  Yes,  I  am  afraid  that  other  person 
has  won  the  race." 

"He  is  so  infinitely  superior  to  us  that  of  course  it  is 
an  infinite  condescension  when  he  speaks  to  us  at  all," 
Kate  went  on,  with  rising  color.  "  But  there,  poor  fellow  ! 
Dick  says  he  can't  help  it.  Perhaps  if  he  had  gone  to 
Canada  when  he  was  young —  By  the  way,  I  wonder 
if  all  Anglo-Canadians  are  pleasant  ?" 

^'■Anglo-Canadians !'"    repeated    Mrs.     Grey,    huskily 
The  hand  still  softly  stroking  Kate's  was  drawn  away,  and 


PRE  TTY  M/SS  BELLE  IV.  313 

clasped  tightly  over  the  other,  and  she  raised  her  head 
from  the  cushions  with  a  startled,  questioning  look. 

"Yes,"  said  Kate,  carelessly,  "'because,  if  so,  I  would 
like  to  go  and  live  there.  But,  dear  me,  how  ill  you  are 
looking!  Am  I  tiring  you  ?  If  so,  I'll  go  away  at  once, 
and  ask  your  advice  about  my  ditficulty  another  time." 

"No,  1  am  not  tired,"  said  Mrs.  Grey,  rather  faintly, 
and  though  she  tried  to  smile,  there  was  a  look  in  her 
eyes  as  though,  but  for  long  habit  of  patience,  she  would 
fain  have  asked  something  on  her  own  account.  ''  What 
is  your  difficulty  ?  Not  that  1  am  a  good  adviser.  A 
person  should  have  known  how  to  order  her  own  affairs 
successfully  before  she  presumes  to  advise  others;  and 
I — but  your  trouble  may  be  an  easy  one  to  remedy.  Let 
us  hear." 

"  It  isn't  one  trouble,  but  two,"  said  Kate,  confidentially. 
"  And  the  big  one  hasn't  to  do  with  myself  so  much  as 
my  brother.  I've  several  brothers,  you  know,  so  I  won't 
mention  which  it  is,  because,  though  he  is  the  ve?-y  best 
and  dearest  fellow  in  the  world,  I'm  afraid  he's  been  a  wee 
bit  foohsh  in  this.  You  see,  mamma  and  I  hoped  he 
would  read  down  here ;  but — but  he  doesn't  like  reading 
by  himself;  and  of  course  I  can't  help  him;  I'm  too 
stupid  ;  so  when  mamma  sent  the  governess  down  to  look 
after  us  some  days  ago,  she  was  to  have  D — my  brother's 
room,  and  he  was  to  go  down  to  read  with  a  clerical  friend 
in  Wales.  lie  didn't  like  going  at  ail,  poor  boy.  In  fact 
he  was — was  rather  cross  about  it,  and  didn't  want  anv 
of  us  to  see  him  off.  However,  I  would  go  to  the  station 
with  him,  and  then  I  saw  he  had  taken  his  ticket  for  Lon- 
don. Of  course  I  thought  it  was  by  mistake,  and  said  so; 
l)ut  he  said  it  didn't  matter,  as  he  had  to  pass  through  Lon- 
don e>i  tonic,  in  order  to  see  Mr.  Clive  on  business.  Now, 
I  don't  see  how  London  can  be  eii  route  from  Combe  Regis 
to  Llandudno  !  However,  the  dear  boy  was  so  put  out 
I  didn't  like  to  say  anything ;  and  he  desired  me  not  to 
mention  it  to  any  one,  as  he  should  only  stay  a  few  hours 
in  London,  and  his  business  with  Mr.  Clive  was  strictly 
private.  But,  Mrs.  Clewer,  twenty- four  hours  after  he 
was  gone,  a  letter  canie  from  Mr.  Clive  addressed  to  him 


3 1 4  P^£^ ^"^y  .I/y^.'^'  BELLE M^. 

here  ;  and  since  then  a  post-card  from  his  friend  in  Wales, 
saying  that  his  room  has  been  three  days  waiting  for  him  ; 
and  that  two  letters  have  arrived  to  his  address — one  from 
Eastl)Ourne  (that's  mother),  and  one  from  the  Temple 
(that's  Mr.  Clive).  So,  you  see,  he  can't  have  seen  him 
after  all ;  and,  if  mamma  writes  to  him,  she  can't  have 
seen  or  heard  from  him  either;  and  yet,  I  know  he  arrived 
safely,  for  1  had  a  line  from  him  the  evening  he  arrived  in 
London,  bidding  me  not  to  write  to  him  at  Llandudno, 
till  I  had  first  heard  from  him.  And — and  I  am  so  afraid 
something  is  wrong,  and  1  don't  know  whether  1  ought  to 
write  to  mamma.  Dick  would  be  very  angry,  I  know; 
but  still,  if  I  ought — do  tell  me  what  you  think." 

"But  what  do  you  mean  by  wrong  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Grey, 
kindly.  "Your  brother  may  have  been  detained  on 
other  business.     How  old  is  he?" 

"Twenty-one.  Only  a  boy,  you  see,  poor  fellow!" 
said  Kate,  shaking  her  nineteen-year-old  head  mournfully. 
"  But — but — well,  the  fact  is  that  there  is  a  person — a 
young  person  in  London  at  present,  and  I  don't  quite  un- 
derstand about  it,  but  she  will — will  insist  on  marrying 
him  ;  and  she  isn't  even  a  lady,  and  Mr.  Clive  is  trying  to 
arrange  with  her;  but  I  do  wish  mamma  knew,  for  Dick 
is  foolish  sometimes;  and,  oh,  it  would  be  so  dreadful!" 

"  I  understand,"  said  Mrs.  Grey,  quietly.  "  My  dear, 
since  you  ask  my  advice,  take  it,  and  tell  your  mother  at 
least  what  you  have  told  me.  It  is  always  a  mistake  to 
keep  anything,  even  trities,  from  our  parents  when  we  are 
young ;  and  marriage  is  no  trifle.  It  is  a  thing  too  solemn 
to  be  trusted  to  any  risks — a  thing  which,  once  done,  can 
never  be  undone,  as  long  as  life  last.s — lasts!  and — ah, 
heavens  ! — how  long  it  lasts  sometimes  ! " 

Her  eyes  were  looking  far  away  into  the  gold-tinted 
waves  of  western  sky.  The  boughs  of  the  great  pinky- 
blossomed  horse-chestnut  outside  swayed  softly  in  the 
breeze,  and  cast  wavering  shadows  on  her  pale,  sunset- 
lighted  face.  Kate,  sobered  into  a  kind  of  awe,  looked 
up  at  her  half  shyly,  half  wonderingly. 

"  I  will  write  to-night  if  I  don't  hear  anything  more," 
she  said,  drawing  a  long  breath,     "I  hope  he  won't  be 


PRE  TTY  MISS  BEL LE IV.  3 1 5 

very  angry;  but  when  he  first  spoke  to  me  in  confidence 
he  did  not  give  me  an  idea  what  she  really  was;  and  if  it 
will  save  him,  it  is  better  even  that  he  should  be  angry. 
Oh,  dear  ! " — with  another  sigh — "  I  am  glad  I  asked  you." 

Mrs.  Grey  turned  round,  as  if  suddenly  recalled  to  the 
subject  in  cjuestion  by  the  sound  of  the  girl's  voice. 

'"So  am  I,"  she  said,  "for  there  can  be  little  risk  in  ad- 
vising you  to  have  no  secrets  from  your  mother.  But  you 
said  you  had  another  trouble." 

"Not  a  trouble — only  a  doubt,"  corrected  Kate,  "and 
I  hardly  know  how  to  tell  you,  for  it  is  so  ridiculously 
tiny,  you  will  be  sure  to  laugh  at  me." 

"No,  I  will  promise  not  to  do  that." 

"And  of  course  I  can't  mention  names  :  indeed,  if  you 
were  a  friend  of  ours  I  could  not  tell  you  at  all,  because 
you  would  guess  whom  I  meant,  and  it  wouldn't  be  fair 
or  right.  That  is  just  my  difficulty  at  present;  but  I 
have  been  making  such  mistakes,  and  vexing  mamma 
and  all  by  acting  for  myself,  that  it  would  be  a  help  to 
have  a  quite  impartial  person's  advice.  And  I  am  sure 
you  will  keep  all  1  say  to  yourself." 

Mrs.  Grey  said  she  might  be  sure. 

"Well,"  said  Kate,  plaiting  the  hem  of  her  tunic  busily 
between  her  fingers,  "you  must  know  that  Bee  Vanbor- 
ough — that  is  the  lady  your  relation  lives  with — has 
asked  me  to  go  on  a  visit  to  her  as  soon  as  the  others  are 
settled  at  Eastbourne;  and  mamma  is  willing  that  I 
should,  because,  since  Dick  doesn't  want  me,  she  thinks 
it  a  pity  that  I  should  miss  the  whole  of  the  season;  and 
for  that  matter,  so  do  I." 

Mrs.  Grey  nodded. 

"That  is  the  preface."  said  Kate.  "Then" — smiling  a 
little,  and  blushing  very  much — "there  is  a — a  person — 
in  fact,  a  friend  of  the  family — who  was  down  here  a 
while  ago,  and  left  rather  suildcnly.  I — we  were  rather 
otifended  about  it  at  the  time,  but  he — this  person  wrote 
to  me — only  a  line,  you  know — the  other  day.  explaining 
and  apologizing,  and  thanking  us  for  our  kindness  very 
nicely,  and — and  I  am  wondering  now,  ought  I  to  go  to 
Lady  Vanborough's." 


3 1 6  PRE  TT  Y  MISS  BELLE  W. 

"My  dear!  why  not?"  asked  Mrs.  Grey,  raising  her 
eyebrows  the  eighth  part  of  an  inch. 

"He — he  put  a  postscript,  too,"  said  Kate,  hanging 
her  head,  "and  he  said  that — " 

"Well?" 

"That  he  hoped  soon  to  see  me  at  Lady  Vanborough's, 
and  clear  away  any — any  bad  impression  his  abruptness, 
or  anv  other  circumstance,  might  have  left  upon  my  mind, 
and—" 

'•Well?"— smiling. 

"Well !"  cried  Kate,  with  a  burst,  "is  it  right — is  it  dig- 
nified, when  people  will  combine  to  tease  you  about  a 
person  you  only  like  as  a  friend,  and  who  only  likes  you 
as  a — a  friend  too,  to  do  anything  that  spiteful  people 
could  say  was  giving  encouragement  to — to  anything, 
though,  you  know,  there  isn't  anything  to  be  encouraged, 
and  nobody  wants  to  be  encouraged.  Such  nonsense!" 
cried  Kate,  angrily;  "and  for  Bee  herself  to  join  in  it! 
As  if  Mr.  M'Kenzie  were  not  much  too  sensible — " 

'■'■  M'Keftzie  /"  repeated  Mrs.  Grey.  She  half  rose  as 
she  spoke,  her  limbs  trembling,  and  in  her  face  a  white, 
horror-struck  look;  but  Kate  was  too  much  occupied 
with  her  own  little  girlish  trouble  to  pay  heed  to  her. 

"Did  I  say  M'Kenzie  ?"  she  asked,  biting  her  lips  con- 
fusedly. "  How  stupid — how  very  stupid  of  me  !  Please, 
please  not  to  say  or  think  of  it  again,  for  I  am  vexed  and 
ashamed  enough  already.  And  only  think,  if  people 
were  to  talk  to  him  as  they  have  done  to  me ! " 

"M'Kenzie!"  said  Mrs.  Grey  again;  "is  he,  then,  the 
Canadian  you  spoke  of?"  She  did  not  heed  Kate 
either.  These  two  women  were  so  absorbed  in  their  own 
emotions  that  neither  even  perceived  those  of  the  other; 
and  outside,  the  low,  red  sunlight  rested  on  the  vine- 
leaves,  and  turned  the  geraniums  to  drops  of  fire;  the 
bees  drummed  among  the  honeysuckle-sprays;  far  away, 
a  dog  was  barking  from  a  distant  cottage;  and  farther 
still,  in  the  intervals  of  silence,  came  a  faint,  deep  mur- 
mur, the  boom-  of  the  surf  on  the  rocky  shore  where 
M'Kenzie  had  so  neaily  lost  his  life. 

"  Not  exactly  a  Canadian,"  said  Kate.     "  He  is  Scotch 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 


317 


by  birth.  Mamma  knew  a  relation  of  his — Colonel  Dal-, 
las.  By  the  way,  that  is  his  Christian  name.  Dallas 
M'Kenzie.  Doesn't  it  sound  nice  ?  Why — why,  Mrs. 
Clewcr — oh!   what  is  the  matter?" 

For  Mrs.  Grey,  without  word  or  cry,  had  fallen  face 
foremost,  a  senseless  heap  of  soft,  white  drapery,  and 
softer,  whiter  womanhood,  prone  on  the  floor  at  Kate 
Bellew's  feet ! 


CHAPTER  XXIX, 

ON  THE  TERRACE  WALK. 


Ut 


DON'T  pretend  to  understand  anything  but  that  you 
are  a  little  goose,  Katie,  my  dear,"  Lady  Vanborough 
said,  next  morning.  "  And  you  know,  if  you  will  behave 
like  a  baby,  other  people  will  make  remarks." 

"In  that  case  I  had  better  not  go  to  Mrs.  Gore's  to- 
night, and  then  they  will  have  no  occasion  to  do  so," 
Kate  answered,  with  head  erect  and  quivering  lip. 

She  made  it  up  with  Bee  later,  owning  that  she  had 
been  "  cross,"  and  making  a  great  show  of  interest  in  the 
latter's  toilet  for  the  evening.  But  it  was  a  positive  relief 
to  her,  when,  on  entering  the  crowded,  brilliantly-lit  rooms 
at  half-past  ten  that  night,  the  first  person  her  eyes  fell 
upon  was,  not  Dallas  M'Kenzie,  but  Bernard  Clive.  His 
face  was  turned  towards  the  door,  so  that,  even  before  the 
pillar  of  claret  and  silver  stationed  thereat  had  shouted, 
"  Lady  Vanb'ro'  'n'  Miss  B'lew  !  "  at  the  top  of  a  sonorous 
voice,  his  eye  had  caught  Kate's  newly  timid  glance  peep- 
ing from  behind  her  chaperone's  broad  shoulders,  and  he 
had  conquered  his  first  impulse  to  turn  away  and  leave 
the  room  on  the  first  convenient  opportunity.  Instead, 
he  waited  till  she  came  near,  and  then  saluted  her  as  usual 
— a  trifle  awkwardly,  perhaps,  but  then  it  is  not  easy  for  a 
man  to  feel  perfectly  unembarrassed  at  his  first  meeting  with 
a  girl  after  she  has  refused  him.  Rather  to  his  surprise, 
Kate  stopped,  and  held  out  her  hand. 

"  I  did  not  expect  to  meet  you,"  she  said,  with  a  smile 
which  showed  how  little  impression  the  fracas  with  hira 

318 


PRE  TT  V  A//SS  BELLE  IV,  3 1  g 

had  made  on  her  mind,  and  which  perhaps  hurt  him  more 
than  coldness  or  constraint  would  have  done,  ''Have 
you  heard  from  Dick,  lately  ?  " 

"Not  very.  I  heard  from  your  mother,  yesterday,"  he 
answered,  keeping  at  her  side,  as  indeed  he  was  obliged 
to  do,  so  as  to  reply  to  her. 

"  From  mamma  ?  Ah,  dear,  I  wish  she  were  here  ! 
What  did  she  say  ?  " 

"That  she  wished jw/  were  there,"  he  said,  smiling,  but 
■with  a  little  wonder  in  his  tone  at  the  trouble  expressed 
in  hers.  "  But  that  was  only  at  the  end.  She  wrote  about 
that  affair  of  Dick's — I  understand  you  told  her  some- 
thing of  it." 

"I  thought — that  is,  I  was  advised — "  Kate  began,  but 
was  relieved  by  a  dictatorial — 

"Oh,  quite  right,  quite  right  !  Much  better  for  gids 
to  have  no  secrets  from  their  parents.  Besides" — in  a 
different  tone — "it  was  rather  a  relief  to  me  since,  as  it 
had  resolved  itself  into  a  money  question,  I  required  fam- 
ily assistance  as  to  raising  it.  You'll  be  glad  to  know 
that  I  think  it  is  setded  now.  Lord  Lovegoats  has  con- 
sented— " 

"What!  does  Uncle  Theo.  know?"  cried  Kate,  in  dis- 
may.    "Oh  !  will  Dick  ever  forgive  me?" 

"We  thought  it  better  he  should  know  nothing  of  your 
having  spoken  to  your  mother,  or  the  subsequent  ar- 
rangements," said  Clive,  kindly,  as  he  saw  the  distress  in 
her  eyes.  "Dick  is  rather  difficult  to  manage  on  some 
subjects,  you  know ;  and  as,  if  Lord  Lovegoats  gets  him 
this  Irish  post,  he  must  work  hard  for  the  Civil  Service 
Exam.,  he  had  better  remain  where  he  is.  He  seems 
wonderfully  contented  there.  I  don't  hear  a  growl 
or — " 

"Is  your  card  already  full,  Miss  Bellew?" 

It  was  Mr.  M'Kenzie's  voice,  and  in  one  second  Kate 
forgot  Dick.  Clive,  Civil  Service  Exams.,  everything  and 
everybody  in  the  world  except  the  man  whose  mere 
voice  had  made  her  very  shoulders  rosy  within  their 
framing  of  soft  tuile.  Clive  saw,  and  turned  away  with  a 
sharp  inward  pang. 


520  PkETTV  MISS  BELLEW. 

"Is  that  settled,  I  wonder?"  he  thought.  "How 
transparent  she  is!  I  wonder  if  she  remembers  that  day 
at  Com.be  Regis.  Well,  I  suppose  there  are  some  men 
who  can't  make  themselves  cared  for." 

"I  am  afraid  you  will  hardly  have  a  dance  left  to  give 
me,"  said  M'Kenzie,  and  low  and  pleasant  as  his  voice 
was,  there  was  a  decided  thrill  of  nervousness  in  it,  which 
even  Kate  noticed,  and  made  her  feel  more  nervous  her- 
self 

"  I  thought  you  never  danced,"  she  said,  giving  him 
the  tiny  white-and-gold  tablets  which  hung  at  her  wrist, 
with  a  trustful  liberality  which  moved  to  envious  despair 
a  gay  young  cornet  of  hussars  who  was  just  making  his 
way  through  the  press  to  get  at  her  with  a  similar  re- 
quest, 

"I  never  do  dance,  but  all  the  same  I  want  you  to 
give  me  two  running,  if  you  will.  Will  you  ?  I  have 
something  to  tell  you,  and  I'm  afraid  I  can't  do  it  under 
two." 

He  looked  at  her  rather  anxiously  as  he  spoke,  but  Kate 
had  grown  suddenly  grave  and  composed. 

"  Please  mark  the  two,"  she  said,  in  a  very  low,  steady 
little  voice,  as  though  she  were  taking  an  affidavit  to 
something ;  and  then,  without  waiting  for  his  thanks,  she 
turned  quickly  away  to  the  cornet,  gave  him  a  dance 
somewhere  near  the  end,  and  suffered  herself  to  be  whirled 
away  in  the  waltz  then  playing  by  a  pre-engaged  partner, 
who  had  just  arrived  to  claim  her  in  a  state  of  red-hot 
hurr)'. 

The  moment  came  at  last.  It  was  pretty  late  in  the  even- 
ing, and  she  had  not  sat  down  once  till  then;  but  when  the 
first  notes  of  the  marked  quadrille  were  heard,  a  frantic 
desire  came  over  her  to  accept  the  first  partner  who 
offered,  and  escape  among  the  throng.  It  was  not  to  be, 
however,  for  almost  in  the  same  moment  she  heard  M'Ken- 
zie's  voice,  and  knew  her  hour  was  come. 

"You  look  very  pale,"  he  said,  offering  her  his  arm,  and 
speaking  in  a  quiet  easy  way  which  a  little  reassured  her. 
"Just  now,  when  I  was  looking  at  you  acro.ss  the  room,  I 
thought  you  were  going  to  faint.     That  dance  was  too  fast 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE W. 


321 


for  anything.  Don't  you  feel  these  rooms  friglitfully  op- 
pressive ?  they  are  so  over-crowded." 

Kate  was  struggHng  with  an  inward  shiver  at  the  mo- 
ment, but  she  said  "Yes"  in  perfect  good  faith.  He 
ought  to  know  better  than  she  did;  at  any  rate,  she  was 
prepared  to  think  so. 

"  Let  us  go  out  on  the  terrace,"  said  M'Kenzie. 
"Have  you  seen  how  prettily  the  gardens  are  lighted? 
This  young  Gore  knows  how  to  do  things  well;  and  what 
a  handsome  pair  he  and  his  wife  are !  They  must  be 
proud  of  one  another.  Stay,  wait  a  moment.  We  mustn'c 
have  you  catching  cold,  must  we?  1  think  this  is  Lady 
Vanborough's,"  and  he  caught  up  a  white  fleecy  shawl, 
and  wrapped  it  round  Kate's  pretty  round  shoulders  with 
careful  hands,  before  taking  her  out  into  the  cool  summer 
night. 

The  house  was  a  large,  old-fashioned  one,  not  far  from 
Fulham,  and  situated  on  the  banks  of  the  river.  The 
drawing-room  windows  opened  on  to  a  broad  terrace 
walk,  paved  with  rcd-wliite  Roman  tiles,  with  a  marble 
balustrade  covered  with  creeping  plants  running  round  it, 
and  here  and  there  stands  and  vases  of  flowers,  inter- 
spersed with  wicker  chairs  and  cushioned  lounges.  Be- 
low, the  garden  sloped  down  in  bands  of  soft  turf  and 
brilliant  flowers,  to  a  croquet-lawn  shaded  by  fine  old 
sycamores;  and  then  came  another  slope,  and  a  second 
terrace  bordering  the  river,  which  flowed  outside  like  a 
broad  black  band,  splashed  here  and  there  with  silver,  be- 
tween them  and  tlie  opposite  shore.  Tlie  niglit  was  sweet 
and  warm,  a  light  breath  of  air  just  stirring  the  surface 
of  the  glassy  mirror  below,  ami  sending  wafts  of  fragrance 
from  the  flowers  into  the  envying  nostrils  of  late  passers 
by  the  Fulham  road.  Here  and  there  among  the  trees 
glimmered  the  red  or  orange  light  of  a  Chinese  lantern ; 
but  high  over  the  silvered  foliage  and  glistening  Avater 
rode,  amid  her  court  of  shining  stars,  the  radiant  queen 
of  night,  enthroned  within  a  sky  of  deep  brilliant  blue, 
and  casting  a  purer  spiritual  light  on  three  girls  who,  in 
their  shining  ball-dresses  and  with  their  attendant  cava- 
liers, were  attempting  an  impromptu  game  of  croquet  by 
21 


322 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE  iV. 


the  mystic  light.  Other  couples  were  resting  between  the 
dances  on  the  scattered  seats  outside  the  window,  or  wan- 
dering among  the  shadowy  walks,  revealed  here  and  there 
by  the  gleam  of  a  lantern  ;  or  leaning  over  the  parapet  of 
the  lower  terrace  in  (apparently)  rapt  contemplation  of 
the  river  rippling  below.  It  looked  like  a  scene  in  the 
drama,  so  pretty  and  so  unreal ;  and  Kate,  as  leaning  on 
M'Kenzie's  arm,  she  too  strolled  to  a  bench  at  one  end  of 
the  terrace,  felt  as  if  the  whole  scene  were  a  play,  in  which 
she  was  taking  a  part,  and  as  if  something  must  happen 
every  minute  to  dispel  the  illusion,  and  bring  back  the  sober 
matter-of-fact  of  every-day  reality.  Dallas  did  not  keep 
her  long  in  suspense. 

"  Kate,"  he  said,  leaning  his  arms  on  the  balustrade, 
but  turning  his  head  so  that  he  might  see  Katie's  face, 
white  in  the  moonlight,  and  looking  up  with  all  trustful- 
ness into  his  from  her  corner  seat  under  a  huge  magnolia, 
"did  you  know  that  I  had  ever  been  married  ?" 

"No!"  said  Kate.  She  said  it  with  a  little  gasp. 
This  was  quite  different  frorn  what  she  expected  to  hear, 
and  perhaps  the  moonbeams  were  not  all  to  blame  for 
the  color  of  her  face. 

"I  thought  Clive  might  have  told  you."  Then,  as  she 
shook  her  head  rather  indignantly — "Well,  never  mind; 
it  is  so,  whether  you  knew  it  or  not.  I  was  married  this 
very  month  four  years  ago,  at  St.  Louis  sur-Eaux,  in 
Canada.  Two  hours  after  that  ceremony  my  wife  and  I 
parted.     We  have  never  met  since." 

He  spoke  in  short,  husky  jerks,  with  breaks  between. 
This  one  lasted  so  long  that  Kate — poor  little  Kate ! 
whose  face  had  altered  so  woefully — plucked  up  courage 
to  ask : 

"  And — and  she  ?  your  wife  ?  " 

"She  is  dead,"  he  said,  hoarsely;  then,  turning  and 
catching  Kate's  small  cold  hand  between  both  of  his — 
"  Oh,  Kate !  if  it  had  not  been  for  that  I  could  never 
have  brought  you  down  here  this  evening.  If  she  had 
lived,  though  we  might  not  have  met  again  in  this  world, 
I  could  never  have  loved  another  woman — never  tried 
to  fill  the  place  she  left   vacant.     Katie,  forgive  me — 


PRE  TT  Y  MISS  BELLE  W.  323 

your  dear  little  face  looks  pale;  but  didn't  I  tell  you 
this  was  not  a  pleasant  story  to  hear?  If  you  don't 
care  for  me,  bid  me  stop  now,  and  I'll  not  utter  another 
word  of  it;  for  if  it's  hard  to  listen  to,  it's  harder  still 
to  tell." 

He  loosed  her  hand  a  little  as  he  spoke,  but  the  small 
fingers  closed  round  his,  and  the  small  face  looked  up  to 
his  undaunted. 

"Tell  me  or  not,  as  you  think  best,  Mr.  M'Kenzie," 
she  said,  bravely.  "  I  know  you  have  had  a  great  deal 
of  trouble ;  I  know  you  loved  her — your  wife ;  it  was 
only  right  you  should." 

"It  was  not  right,"  he  answered,  almost  fiercely. 
"There  was  the  bitterness  of  it.  Kate,  how  shall  I  tell 
you  ?  I  loved  her — loved  her  with  the  one  passion  of 
my  life.  I  won  her  love  in  return,  and  married  her 
at  that  little  Canadian  church  in  the  far  West ;  and  yet 
she  was  not  my  wife;  the  love  she  gave  me  was  not 
hers  to  give.  She  was  married  already !  Whether  for 
my  sake,  or  for  sake  of  my  income  and  position — (iod 
knows  which — she  had  lied  to  me  and  deceived  me; 
and  I  learned  it — good  heavens !  I  can  hardly  bear  to 
think  of  it  now — by  a  letter  from  her  former  husband, 
given  to  me  ten  minutes  after  I  had  stood  with  her  at 
the  altar." 

Kate  said  nothing,  only  her  hand,  still  clasped  in  his, 
drew  back  by  ever  so  little,  and  the  face,  a  moment  past 
turned  up  to  the  moonlight,  drooped  and  hid  itself  in 
the  shadow  of  the  magnolias.  It  was  enough  for  M'Ken- 
zie's  sensitive  nature. 

"  I  thought  so  !  "  he  said,  bitterly.  "  See !  did  I  not 
tell  you  that  the  wrong  she  did  me  was  irremediable, 
since  even  now — noiv,  after  four  long  years  of  suffering, 
it  makes  a  girl  who  was  my  friend  shrink  from  me,  who 
am  its  victim." 

"Oh!  don't  say  that,"  cried  Kate,  quickly,  her  eyes 
filling  at  the  accusation,  "  Mr.  M'Kenzie,  please  don't. 
I  did  not  mean  it.  Uf  course  1  know — every  one  knows 
that  there  are  such  wicked  people.  It  was  only  the  first 
hearing  of  it  in  this  way ;  and  I  am  so  very,  ver)'  sorry 
for  you." 


324  PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 

"Thank  you,"  he  said,  pressing  the  repentant  little 
hand  gently,  "and  forgive  my  quick  tongue.  You  see 
how  tried  1  have  been.  There  isn't  much  more  to  tell, 
and  I'll  get  through  it  as  quickly  as  possible;  only  you 
ought  to  know  how  it  came  about. 

•  "  I  met  her  first  when  I  was  engaged  on  some  engineer- 
ing work  for  the  Government.  She  lived  with  her  mother, 
a  widow  in  very  failing  health,  in  a  little  cottage  about 
half  a  mile  from  St.  Louis-sur-Eaux.  A  road  had  been 
designed  which  would  pass  through  their  cottage,  and  it 
was  about  it  that  I  made  their  acquaintance.  I  think  I 
must  have  fallen  in  love  with  her  at  once ;  and  no 
wonder!  I  don't  believe  any  being  half  so  lovely  ever 
walked  this  earth — no,  not  even  you,  Katie,  though 
you're  far  the  fairest  thing  I've  seen  on  this  side  of  the 
water;  but  she  was  like  nothing  but  one  of  those 
medijeval  saints  you  see  painted  on  dead-gold  back- 
grounds with  a  lily  in  their  hand;  or  like  a  lily  itself,  just 
so  tall  and  grand  and  fair,  with  eyes  of  that  pure,  serene 
blue,  which  looked  as  if  vulgar  sin  or  care  could  never 
come  near  them,  and  a  manner  more  like  an  English 
duchess  than  a  Canadian  woman,  so  sweetly  dignified  and 
perfectly  refined.  It  did  not  seem  as  if  anything  on  earth 
could  ruffle  her  temper  or  sharpen  her  voice:  and  when 
you  see  what  a  passionate,  irritable  sort  of  fellow  I  am, 
you  can  guess  what  a  haven  of  rest  and  sweetness  such  a 
nature  must  have  seemed  to  me. 

"The  mother  was  dying,  and  both  of  them  knew  it. 
Ay — she  told  me  so,  and  urged  that  they  should  not  be 
disturbed  till  all  was  over.  They  had  nothing  to  say 
against  the  disturbance,  and  of  course  they  were  to  be 
fairly  compensated.  She  only  prayed  me  to  put  it  off 
awhile,  and — also  of  course — I  agreed.  I  would  have 
done  as  much  for  any  one,  let  alone  her  whose  lightest 
wish  was  already  my  law. 

"The  mother  died,  and  she  was  left  alone — more  ut- 
terly alone  than  you  could  imagine,  for  they  lived  in 
great  seclusion.  She  was  English-born,  and  in  all  the 
world  had  only  one  relative  left,  a  distant  cousin  in  To- 
ronto, who  was  just  leaving  for  England.     It  was  this 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE W. 


3^5 


which  gave  me  courage  to  tell  her  of  my  love.  If  she 
had  been  rich  and  happy,  she  would  have  seemed  too  far 
above  me  for  such  as  I  to  woo  or  win.  See  what  a  fool 
I  was,  Kate,  for  I  at  least  was  an  honorable  man. 

"I  won  her — not  without  difficulty;  but  she  owned 
she  loved  me,  and  after  that  I  would  take  no  refusal.  I'he 
marriage  followed  as  soon  as  might  be ;  I  was  eager  to 
possess  my  prize;  she  was  alone  and  friendless;  and,  in- 
deed, once  she  had  yielded,  she  showed  no  maidenly 
affectations  for  delay,  and  threw  no  obstacles  in  the  way. 

"\\'e  were  married,  and,  as  we  re-entered  the  house 
that  letter  was  given  me.  Would  (iod  I  had  got  it  an 
hour  sooner!  It  was  from  her  husband,  and  couched  in 
the  most  insolent  and  threatening  language.  Little  won- 
der! I  might  have  written  worse  myself  under  similar 
circumstances;  but  it  enclosed  a  copy  of  the  first  mar- 
riage certificate.  It  told  me  that  they  had  been  sepa- 
rated for  some  time  on  account  of  his  having  lost  all  his 
money,  and  being  under  a  cloud.  Worst  of  all,  he  gave 
me  proof  that  they  had  been  corresponding  up  to  the  last 
few  weeks,  quoted  details  of  my  own  visits,  facts  about 
myself  told  only  to  her,  and  which  could  have  been  only 
told  by  her;  and  then — then,  while  I  was  reading  this, 
and  she  changing  her  dress  upstairs,  the  maid  came  in 
with  a  crumpled  letter. 

"  '  Is  this  yours,  sir  ?  I  think  you  dropped  it.  I  found 
it  under  the  dining-table.' 

"  I  took  it,  but  it  was  not  mine.  Kate,  it  was  one  of  his 
letters  to  her.  dated  only  ten  days  back.  1  have  it  now. 
I  know  every  word  of  it  by  heart.  Child,  do  you  know 
what  I  did  when  I  saw  it  first?" 

But  Kate  made  no  answer.  She  might  have  said, 
"Killed  her,"  if  slie  had  only  judged  by  that  fierce  white 
face,  and  teeth  gnawing  savagely  at  his  under  lip.  She 
only  shivered  and  held  her  peace. 

"1  hardly  know  myself,"  he  went  on,  hoarsely.  "I 
think  I  went  mad,  for  I  tore  ujj  into  her  room,  and  flung 
the  letter  in  her  face,  and  tramjjled  on  her  wedding-dress, 
and  raved  and  stormed  at  her,  and  cursed  her  for  the 


' ) 


miserv  she  had  brought  on  me.     I  was  mad,  Kate,  but  it 


'C> 


was  she  had  made  me  so." 


326  PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 

Again  Kate  shivered.  All  her  warm  young  blood 
seemed  to  have  turned  to  ice;  but  only  her  eyes  asked 
the  question  her  lips  refused  to  ask. 

"  She  said  nothing,"  he  answered,  as  though  she  had 
spoken,  "not  one  word.  She  stood  looking  at  me  with 
that  grand  face  of  hers  set  like  a  marble  statue,  as  stub- 
born and  as  unrepentant.  I  suppose  she  had  made  up 
her  mind  to  expect  it  some  day,  though  not  so  soon ;  only 
when  my  anger  broke  a  little  at  the  sight  of  her  beauty, 
and  I  said  something  of  love  and  excuse,  she  stopped  me 
with  a  curt,  '  Let  me  go ;  you  are  insulting  me,'  and 
swept  out  of  the  room  without  one  backward  look.  I 
tried  to  stop  her,  to  extract  one  word  of  explanation  or 
sorrow — I  remember  that,  and  nothing  more  just  then.  I 
suppose  I  had  a  fit  of  some  sort,  for  I  didn't  recover  con- 
sciousness till  late  that  evening,  and  she  was  gone  by 
then.     I  never  saw  her  again." 

"And  how — "  Kate's  quivering  lips  formed  so  much 
after  a  silence  which  seemed  like  an  hour;  it  might  have 
been  five  minutes  in  reality. 

"  How  did  I  hear  of  her  death  ?  This  way.  I  went 
to  Toronto — don't  despise  me,  Katie,  but  I  could  not  let 
her  disappear  thus ;  and  as  soon  as  she  was  gone,  all 
sorts  of  excuses  for  her  came  into  my  mind  :  explanations 
which  she  might  have  given  if  I  had  but  controlled  my 
passion  in  the  beginning,  and  let  her — I  searched  for  her 
far  and  wide  ;  for  at  least,  if  money  had  been  her  tempta- 
tion, she  should  have  had  the  half  of  mine;  but  it  was 
no  use.  Her  relation  had  left  Toronto — it  was  thought, 
for  England ;  and  it  was  not  for  many  weeks  that  I  dis- 
covered that  the  last  that  had  been  seen  of  her  was,  that 
she  had  slept  at  a  certain  hotel,  and  taken  a  ticket  for  the 
Hudson  steamer  next  morning.  That  steamer  burst  a 
boiler,  and  went  down  with  crew  and  passengers.  The 
details  of  the  accident  were  in  the  very  papers  containing 
my  advertisements  for  my  wife — my  wife !  There,  don't 
talk  of  it.  Three  days  after  we  parted,  and  to  be 
snatched  away  so  suddenly !  It  seemed  like  a  judgment. 
I  wish  it  could  have  fallen  on  me  instead.  Nay" — as 
Kate's  eyes  met  his — "I  wished  it  then,  at  least.      Per- 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW.  ^27 

haps  you  will  teach  me  to  be  grateful  for  life  now. 
There's  very  little  more  for  you  to  hear.  I  left  the  army 
then,  went  away,  and  traveled  in  the  south,  in  Mexico 
and  Chili — anywhere  to  forget.  \\'hen  I  came  back  to 
the  States  I  avoided  society  entirely,  went  nowhere,  and 
never  spoke  to  a  woman  if  I  could  help  it.  I  came  to 
England,  and  I  met  you,  my  little  dark-eyed  English 
girl.  It  was  quite  by  chance.  I  had  been  obliged  to 
make  some  new  acquaintances,  to  renew  some  old  ones. 
I  was  asked  as  a  favor  to  take  a  friend's  wife  to  that  ball, 
and  there  I  saw  you,  and  was  won  against  my  will  to  like 
you.  You  looked  so  happy,  so  radiant  with  innocent 
pleasure.  I  felt  as  if  a  sunbeam  had  got  into  the  room, 
and  as  if  even  /must  catch  a  ray  of  it  if  I  could  but  get 
near  you,  and  make  you  speak  to  me.  You  know  the 
rest,  don't  you,  Katie  ?  How  your  innocent  .sympathy 
soothed  me,  your  frankness  and  gaiety  cheered  me  despite 
myself  There  could  be  no  deceit  in  a  girl  who  spoke  put 
every  thought  as  it  came  uppermost,  no  secrets  in  a  life 
which  had  grown  up  in  a  sheltered  English  home  for  only 
nineteen  years;  and  sometimes,  when  the  thought  came 
to  me  that  you  might — that  you  did  care  for  me  a  little 
bit,  you  can't  tell  how  strong  was  the  temptation  to  tell 
you  all  my  sad  story,  and  ask  you  if,  in  spite  of  it,  you 
could  give  yourself  to  me  for  my  own.  It  was  the  selfish- 
ness of  the  thing  stayed  me.  To  ask  you,  so  young  and 
bright  and  pretty  1  Aren't  you  indignant  with  me  for 
giving  way  now,  and  asking  you  for  your  fresh  young  life 
in  exchange  for  the  battered  remains  of  mine  ?  Tell  me 
the  truth,  my  darling — I  don't  think  you  could  tell  me 
anything  else ;  it  isn't  in  you — but  speak  out  fearlessly. 
Don't  hide  your  face,  Katie,  or  be  afraid  of  hurting  my 
feelings.  I  .shall  not  feel  one  whit  the  less  tenderly  to  you, 
whatever  you  may  say.  Answer  me" — putting  one  arm 
gently  round  her,  and  drawing  her  to  his  side,  that  he 
might  better  see  her  face. 

It  was  a  very  pale  little  face — a  very  sober  one.  Dal- 
las felt  conscience-stricken  when  he  saw  how  entirely  the 
girlish  light-heartedness  had  died  out  of  it  under  his  pas- 
sionate rain  of  words. 


328 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE W. 


"My  love,"  he  cried,  remorsefully,  "how  sad  you  look  ! 
Forgive  me.  I  never  ought  to  have  asked  you ;  only  I 
thought — " 

"  You  thought  I  loved  you,"  said  Kate.  Her  forehead 
was  drawn  into  two  very  grave  little  lines.  Her  small 
hands  clasped  each  other  tight ;  and  yet  there  was  no 
thought  of  wounded  pride  in  her  heart,  no  resentment  at 
the  contrast  between  the  greatness  of  the  gift  he  was  ask- 
ing, the  little  he  had  to  offer;  no  recollection  of  the  far 
greater  love  which  ought  to  have  been  poured  out  at  her 
feet  by  the  man  who  expected  to  receive  the  first  fresh 
fount  of  hers.  Kate  was  too  utterly  unselfish  where  she 
loved  to  think  of  how  much  or  how  little  she  was  going 
to  get  in  exchange  for  that  love.  What  she  thought  was, 
as  usual,  expressed  in  what  she  s'aid. 

"  You  thought  I  loved  you.  Would  it  please  you  if  I 
did?" 

"  Please  me  !  It  would  be  such  happiness  as  I  could 
hardly  dare  to  think  of." 

"  You  are  sure — quite  sure" — looking  up  with  serious, 
child-like  earnestness  in  his  face. 

"  More  than  sure.  My  child,  don't  keep  me  in  sus- 
pense.    It  is  I  who  am  so  unworthy  of  you." 

"  That  is  not  true,  so  don't  say  it.  No  :  wait  one  mo- 
ment.    I  am  only  afraid — " 

"  What  ?  " 

"  That  when  you  have  got  me  you  will  be  disappointed 
because  I  am  not  grave  and  gentle,  or — or  like  a  grand 
white  lily." 

"  Katie,  that  is  cruel.  You  know  how  I  should  value 
you,  the  more  for  your  unlikeness  to  her." 

"Then — take  me!" — nestling  suddenly  to  him  like  a 
little  bird — "for  I  do  love  you.  I  love  you  better  than 
any  one  in  the  world.  I  would  rather  be  with  you  than 
with  any  one  in  the  world.  I  will  try,  oh  !  so  hard  to  be 
good  and  make  you  happy." 

"God  bless  you,  my  darling,  my  bright,  loving  child, 
and  help  me  to  repay  you,"  he  said,  folding  her  tight  in 
his  arms,  and  kissing  lips,  brow,  and  cheeks  of  the  Uttle 
face  resting  so  trustfully  on  his  breast. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

WHAT  COULD  THE  MATTER  BE  ? 

1~\0  you  think  Dallas  can  be  ill,  mamma  ?     It  is  such 

J|_y  a  long  time — four  days,  nearly — since  we  have  seen 
him.  But,  mamma,  what  is  the  matter  ?  You  look  wor- 
ried about  something." 

"  It  is  only  Dick,  my  dear.  See  here,  Katie,  he 
wants — " 

But  Kate  had  her  finger  to  her  lips,  and  was  listening 
to  something  else. 

"The  hall-door  !  "  she  said,  her  pretty  color  coming  and 
going  with  eager  anticipation.  "It  must  be — yes,  it  zx 
Dallas !  "  and  she  was  flying  off,  when  checked  by  Lady 
Margaret's  '•  One  moment,  Kale,  dear,"  and  Eve's  rebuk- 
ing "  Kate,  how  terribly  demonstrative  you  are !  I  am 
sure  Mr.  M'Kenzie  would  think  quite  as  much  of  you  if  you 
did  not  go  running  out  to  meet  him  in  that  way.  He 
admires  dignity  in  women  so  much." 

"  Dallas  would  not  like  a  colder  welcome  than  Dick, 
and  I  don't  think  it  undignitled  to  run  out  to  meet  him," 
Kate  said  ;  but  she  stood  still,  nevertheless,  blushing  very 
much,  and  fidgeting  painfully. 

How  very  slowly  Dallas  was  coming  upstairs,  and  how 
very  disagreeable  Eve  was  growing ! 

Dallas  did  come  upstairs  slowly.  Even  the  two  ladies 
who  had  not  troubled  their  heads  with  fears  lest  he  should 
be  ill  because  he  had  not  made  his  appearance  for  two  or 
three  days,  perceived  how  heavily  his  lingering  footsteps 
sounded  in   contrast   to   his   usual  brisk,  active  step,  and 

329 


330  PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 

Lady  Margaret  had  time  to  say,  "I  do  not  think  it  is  Dal- 
las M'Kenzie,  after  all,"  and  Eve  to  reply,  "But  if  not, 
mamma,  Thomas  would  have  come  up  first,  to  announce 
him,"  before  a  shadow  darkened  the  doorway,  and  Kate 
sprang  forward  with  an  exclamation  : 

"  Dallas  !  Is  anything  the  matter?  Oh,  how  ill  you  are 
looking!  " 

He  was  looking  ill :  not  only  horribly  pale  and  worn, 
but  with  dark  rings  round  his  eyes,  and  an  appearance  as 
of  gray  among  the  black  locks  over  his  temples.  It  must 
have  been  a  very  serious  attack  to  make  such  a  change  in 
a  man  within  the  space  of  three  days ;  and  Lady  Mar- 
garet, as  she  held  out  her  hand,  spoke  words  of  anxiety 
and  sympathy  : 

"  For  you  have  indeed  been  ill.  Why  did  you  not  let 
us  know  ?  "  she  said,  in  her  genial,  motherly  way,  which 
more  than  made  amends  for  the  cameo  brooch  put  on  up- 
side down,  and  the  tumbled  ruffles  at  her  wrist.  M'Ken- 
zie flushed  suddenly. 

"111?  Oh,  dear,  no!  What  should  make  you  think 
so,  Lady  Margaret?"  he  said,  with  a  kind  of  nervous  ir- 
ritation in  his  usually  pleasant-sounding  voice,  which 
made  Eve  glance  at  him  more  narrowly. 

"You  are  not  going  away.  Lady  Margaret?"  he  said, 
"  do  stay  and  give  me  your  advice  about  the  library  at 
Weybndge.  Stencil  says  the  paper  is  too  pale  a  tint  for 
light  oak,  and  yet  both  you  and  Katie  took  such  a  fancy 
to  that  suite  at  Gillot's.  What  do  you  think  we  had  bet- 
ter do?" 

Lady  Margaret  sat  down  at  once.  What  woman,  how- 
ever self-abnegating,  can  refuse  to  give  her  opinion  on 
such  a  deeply  interesting  matter  as  the  furniture  of  her 
daughter's  future  home?  Katie's  mother  was  "womanly 
past  question."  She  threw  herself  eagerly  into  the  dis- 
cussion, seeking  out  instances  of  other  libraries,  and  can- 
vassing the  rival  merits  of  light  and  dark  oak,  inlaid 
floors  and  stained  windows,  with  the  keenest  maternal 
zest,  while  Kate  sat  by,  answering  when  spoken  to,  but 
wondering  inwardly  whether  her  mother  did  not  notice 
how  completely  Dallas's  mind  had   wandered   from   the 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 


Z2>^ 


subject  he  had  himself  started,  or  how  pale  and  dreamy 
his  face  had  grown. 

"Let  us  leave  the  library  unfinished  till  we  come  back 
from  abroad,"  he  said,  upsetting  with  a  light  laugh  all  the 
pros  and  cons  he  had  called  forth.  "  We  shall  be  sure  to 
pick  up  things  in  France  or  Italy  which  Katie  will  like 
better  than  West  End  wares;  and  I  shall  give  her  carte 
blanclie  for  her  purchases.  There  are  no  debtor's  prisons 
now-a-days,  Katie,  are  there?  and  at  the  worst,  we  can 
but  sell  the  house  and  go  out  to  make  roads  in  Canada 
again.  Lady  Margaret,  what  are  we  putting  off  this 
wedding  till  the  end  of  October  for  ?  Does  a  young  lady's 
wedding-dress  really  take  six  months  to  make?  Here 
you  are,  staying  in  town  all  through  the  dullest  part  of 
the  year,  while  if  we  had  been  married  at  the  beginning 
of  August,  you  might  have  got  away  to  the  seaside  at 
once,  and  been  as  comfortable  as  possible." 

"  My  dear  Dallas !  What  has  made  you  so  impatient 
to-day?"  Lady  Margaret  said,  half  rebuking,  half  flat- 
tered ;  but  Katie  did  not  even  blush  or  smile.  Her  eyes 
were  still  fixed  on  her  lover  with  a  look  of  puzzled  dis- 
tress; and  she  was  relieved  when,  the  next  moment,  Lady 
Margaret  started  up,  exclaiming: 

"Ten  minutes  to  five!  I  shall  be  barely  able  to  catch 
the  post.  Dallas,  will  you  spare  Katie  to  me  for  one  mo- 
ment ?  It  is  only  something  about  Dick,"  and  so  hurried 
away.  Kate  followed  more  slowly.  Indeed,  she  lingered 
to  say : 

"1  shall  not  be  five  minutes,  Dallas.  Look  at  that  pic- 
ture while  I  am  away,  ami  tell  me  what  frame  would  do 
best  for  it." 

But  he  had  fallen  into  a  fit  of  abstraction,  and  neither 
heard  nor  answered ;  and  Katie  joined  her  mother  with 
such  a  very  grave  little  face  that  Lady  Margaret  noticed  it, 
and  ascribed  it  to  a  wrong  cause. 

"It  is  cruel  to  call  you  away,  love,  when  you  haven't 
seen  him  for  several  days,"  she  said,  kindly  ;  "  but,  you 
see,  I  can't  learn  to  do  without  you  as  quickly  as  Dallas 
wishes;  and  there  is  no  one  else  I  can  speak  to  about 
Dick.     That  ^^150  I  had  to  find  to  prevent  the  scandal 


332 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLFAV. 


of  a  breach  of  promise  case  has  crippled  me  terribly ;  and 
the  wedding — " 

"Never  mind  the  wedding,  mammy  dear,"  said  Kate, 
cheerfully,  "/don't  want  it  hastened;  and  as  for  Dal- 
las— if  he  says  any  more  about  it,  I'll  have  it  put  off  for 
another  year.  I  don't  know  what  is  the  matter  with  him 
this  afternoon,  poor  fellow  !  I  never  saw  him  so  strange  be- 
fore. But  as  for  that  money,  I'm  sure  it  was  well  spent 
in  getting  poor  dear  Dick  clear  of  those  horrid,  intriguing 
women.  1  can't  think  how  he  got  into  the  hands  of  such 
vile,  coarse-minded  people.  I  dare  say  Dick  is  sorry  for 
the  trouble  he  has  given,  and  is  going  to  turn  over  a  new 
leaf." 

Lady  Margaret  shook  her  head  again.  It  seemed  to 
her  that  constant  appeals  for  money,  and  extravagant 
orders  on  London  shops,  were  signs,  not  of  his  turning 
over  a  new  leaf  in  his  rustic  exile,  but  of  his  getting  in- 
volved in  some  fresh  folly  or  entanglement.  There  were 
more  gray  hairs  in  the  mother's  head  now  than  there  had 
been  six  months  ago  ;  and  Bernard  Clive  and  Lord  Love- 
goats  had  severally  said  so  much  to  her  on  her  habit  of 
spoiling  her  first-born  that,  after  many  struggles  with  her- 
self, she  decided  not  to  send  the  young  gentleman  the 
check  he  so  peremptorily  demanded,  but  to  inquire  for 
what  it  was  wanted.  It  was  Kate,  however,  who  must 
pjut  this  decision  into  words.  The  mother  could  not 
nerve  herself  to  that  eftbrt ;  and  accordingly  her  daugh- 
ter was  obliged  (much  contre  coeur)  to  sit  down  and  write 
a  note  to  her  brother,  informing  him  that  his  wishes  could 
not  be  complied  with  for  reasons  dictated  by  Lady  Mar- 
garet. 

Dallas  had  been  left  nearly  half-an-hour  alone  when  his 
betrothed  returned  to  him  ;  and  she  came  into  the  room 
quickly,  and  with  some  little  noise  and  bustle,  feeling 
compunctious  for  her  long  absence,  which  had  seemed  but 
a  few  minutes  to  her  while  her  mind  was  occupied  with 
her  brother,  and  anxious  lest  Mr.  M'Kenzie  might  be  af- 
fronted at  it.  She  had  already  found  out  that  he  was  of 
a  somewhat  exacting,  if  not  jealous,  disposition,  and  liked 
to  enjoy  an  entire  monopoly  of  his  belongings. 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW.  333 

He  was  not  fidgeting  about  the  room,  however,  as  she 
expected,  or  brimmhig  over  with  tender  reproaches  for 
her  neglect.  On  the  contrary,  he  did  not  seem  to  hear 
her  entrance  ;  for  he  was  standing  at  one  of  the  further  win- 
dows, gazing  at  something  which  he  held  in  his  hands. 

"Dallas!  What  is  it?  Oh!  you  must  be  ill.  Do  tell 
me  what  is  the  matter." 

Her  voice  startled  him,  and  he  turned  round  not  smiling, 
but  with  an  almost  fierce  gesture  of  command. 

"  Where  did  you  get  this  ?  "  he  asked,  and  his  voice 
was  so  low  and  hoarse,  it  did  not  sound  like  his  own — 
'■'■this"  striking  an  unframed  canvas  which  he  held  in  the 
other  hand.  "  Who  left  it  here  ?  Who  did  it  ?  For 
pity's  sake,  Kate,  answer;  and  don't  stand  looking  at  me 
so.  .    Where  did  you  get  it  ?  " 

But  Kate  could  only  stand  and  stare  in  blank  amaze- 
ment. Was  Dallas  mad  ?  or  was  this  fierce,  incoherent 
man  her  lover  at  all?  For  what  could  there  be  to  agitate 
him  so  dreadfully  in  the  sketch  which  the  invalid  artist 
had  left  behind  at  Combe  Regis  ? 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 


L' HOMME  propose —  No;  however  suitable  a  quota- 
tion for  the  present  moment,  and  however  impossible 
to  find  an  equal  or  better  one,  I  will  not  reproduce  that 
stalest  and  most  hackneyed  of  all  sayings;  but  will 
rather  leave  my  sentence  unsounded  and  proceed  tout  court 
to  an  incident  which  took  place  some  few  days  after  the 
family  discussion  at  the  Bellews. 

Dallas  had  been  with  Kate  and  her  second  sister  to  pay 
some  calls  at  South  Kensington,  and  about  three  minutes 
walk  from  the  Museum  therein  situated.  The  great,  red, 
conglomerate-looking  pile  was  just  in  front  of  them  as 
they  came  out  of  the  house,  and  Kate  at  once  recollected 
that  some  new  pictures  had  been  bequeathed  to  the  gal- 
leries by  a  lately  defunct  art-collector,  which  she  had  not 
seen. 

"  Let  us  go  in  for  a  few  minutes,  Dallas,"  she  said ; 
"I  should  like  to  see  them  as  we  are  so  near — that  is, 
unless  you've  anything  else  to  do."  And  Dallas,  only 
too  ready  to  gratify  any  of  her  little  fancies,  agreed  on 
the  instant,  declaring  he  should  like  nothing  better. 

They  walked  slowly  through  the  well-lit  and  warmed 
galleries,  stopping  now  and  then  to  glance  at  old  favor- 
ites, and  shudder  at  old  horrors  in  the  way  of  "pot- 
boilers" and  "signboards,"  and  attracting  as  much  notice 
from  other  loiterers  as  generally  falls  to  the  share  of  two 
pretty  girls  in  very  opposite  styles  of  beauty,  in  company 
with  a  man  rather  remarkably  handsome  and  foreign- 
334 


PRE  TTY  MISS  BELLE  IV.  333 

looking.  Kate,  with  her  dark,  laughing  eyes,  rich  color- 
ing and  riante  expression,  had,  as  usual,  most  admirers ; 
but  Eve — now  quite  as  tall  as  her  sister,  slender  as  a 
willow,  and  with  her  transparent  skin  and  flaxen  braids 
rendered  doubly  effective  by  their  setting :  dark,  broad- 
brimmed  felt  and  shady  plumes — had  her  own  share ; 
and  even  Dallas  said,  laughing : 

"  I  ought  to  be  a  ])roud  man  to-day.  My  fair  com- 
panions draw  all  eyes  from  the  pictures." 

"Not  alir  said  Eve,  with  a  quiet  smile,  and  a  half 
imperceptible  gesture. 

They  were  just  entering  one  of  the  smallest  rooms, 
in  which  there  were  not  more  than  half-a-dozen  people ; 
and  these  half-a-dozen  never  turned  an  eye  on  the  new- 
comers, being  occupied  in  watching,  as  near  as  was 
consistent  with  (British)  civility,  the  performances  of  a 
lady  artist  who,  seated  on  a  low  campstool,  was  sketching 
a  copy  on  wood  from  one  of  the  pictures. 

"  My  !  ain't  she  a  stunnin'  handsome  creature  ?"  "An' 
ain't  she  doin'  of  it  spicy  ?  "  were  comments  they  heard 
from  two  of  the  junior  male  gapers.  Kate  whispered 
laughingly  to  her  lover  : 

"  Dallas,  I  know  you're  longing  to  go  and  look  at  her. 
Do  it  at  my  desire,  and  tell  me  if  she's  copying  my  pet  in 
the  corner.     Eve  and  I  will  wait  here." 

Dallas  obeyed  at  once,  not  because  he  was  longing  to 
do  so,  but  because  pleasuring  his  lady-love  was  his  haut 
devoir  at  the  present  moment.  As  he  came  behind  the 
artist,  however,  Kate,  who  had  a  little  shifted  her  posi- 
tion, caught  sight  of  the  latter's  profile  over  an  interven- 
ing shoulder,  and  exclaimed  in  her  own  quick,  impulsive 
voice : 

"Why,  it's — it's  Mrs.  CIcwer!     Oh,  how  strange!" 

She  spoke  rather  loudly,  and  the  lady  in  question 
heard  and  turned  round,  half  rising  from  her  scat;  Dal- 
las was  just  behind  her,  and  the  movement  brought  them 
face  to  face.  What  change  came  over  his,  the  sisters  did 
not  see.  That  which  they  did  see  was  the  deadly,  terror- 
stricken  whiteness  which  overcast  hers,  the  shiver  which 
shook  her  whole  body  like  a  leaf  in  a  gale  of  wind.  There 


33^ 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 


was  a  dead  silence  for  one  moment — then,  the  tall  figure 
swayed  heavily  back — there  came  a  crashing  fall,  a  hoarse 
passionate  cry — "Averil!  Averil !  My  love  !  " — and  Dal- 
las had  thrust  back  the  people  crowding  round,  and  lifted 
her  from  the  ground,  holding  her  face  against  his  breast 
with  one  arm,  while  he  warned  off  assistance  from  out- 
siders with  the  other. 

"  Did  you  hear  what  he  called  her  ? "  said  Eve,  very 
low.  "Kate,  we  had  better  go  away.  Oh,  Kate!  pull 
down  your  veil,  and  come  away  with  me.  It  will  be  bet- 
ter so." 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 
"that  other  woman." 

ALL  idea  of  Kale,  all  remembrance  of  the  people  round, 
was  banished  from  Dallas  then;  and  yet  he  was 
dreamily  aware,  first,  that  the  latter  were  dispersing  in 
obedience  to  some  order,  and  then  that  two  women  were 
beside  him — an  attendant  from  the  waiting-room,  and  a 
motherly-looking  old  body,  who  proffered  salts  and  rec- 
ommended that  he  should  carry  "the  poor  lady  out  of  the 
smell  of  the  paint."  Dallas  obeyed  mechanically,  and 
between  them  they  carried  her  down  stairs  and  laid  her 
on  a  bench  in  one  of  the  long,  cool  corridors,  which  hap- 
pened to  be  otherwise  untenanted  at  the  moment.  And 
then  it  was,  as  gently  and  slowly  he  laid  the  head,  once 
so  dear,  upon  a  pillow  hastily  improvised  out  of  the  at- 
tendant's shawl,  that  his  presence  of  mind  came  back  to 
him — as  the  eyelids,  a  moment  back  pressed  down  so 
heavily  upon  the  white  cheek  that  death  himself  might 
have  laid  his  eternal  seal  on  them,  were  slowly  and  pain- 
fully lifted,  and  the  blue  eyes  rested  on  him  with  a  faint, 
troubled,  flickering  smile,  as  though  the  soul  behind  were 
but  half  awake,  as  the  pale  lips  parted  with  a  murmur  of 
his  name,  that,  sharp  and  keen  as  a  knife  piercing  to  his 
very  heart,  came  back  to  Dallas  M'Kt-nzie  the  full  re- 
membrance of  all  that  had  been  in  the  past,  and  all  that  was 
in  the  present.  He  tried  to  speak  to  her.  but  there  was  a 
sort  of  choking  sob  in  his  throat  which  prevented  him 
from  uttering  a  word  ;  and  it  was  the  attendant  who  said  : . 
"She's  coming  to,  sir,  nicely  now,"  and  held  a  glass 
22  337 


338  PRE  TTY  MISS  BELLE  W. 

of  water  to  Averil's  lips,  sprinkling  a  few  drops  over  hei 
face,  and  fanning  her,  with  womanly  words  of  comfort 
and  encouragement.  They  were  hardly  needed.  The 
first  cold  drops  seemed  to  revive  Mrs.  Grey's  scattered 
senses,  and  she  sat  upright,  trembling  and  white  as 
death  ;  but  resolutely  struggling  for  composure,  and  as 
resolutely  averting  her  eyes  from  the  man  who  stood  at  a 
little  distance,  gazing,  with  tight-clasped  hands  and  hag- 
gard brow,  down  on  her. 

"There  now,  m'm,  you're  getting  better,  aren't  you, 
dear  ?  That's  right  then,"  said  the  waiting  woman,  kindly, 
and  tying  on  the  poor  woman's  bonnet  with  brisk,  tidy 
hands. 

"Ay,  get  her  a  glass  of  wine,"  put  in  the  motherly 
body,  smoothing  down  Averil's  golden  hair  with  a  broad, 
■fat  hand,  in  a  dogskin  glove.  "That'll  put  a  little  life  in 
her,  pore  dear.  I  must  be  going  back  to  my  children 
above  there;  and  if  you'll  take  my  advice,  sir,  you'll  get 
the  lady,  as  seems  to  be  a  friend  of  yours,  into  a  cab  as 
soon  as  possible,  an'  see  her  'ome.  They  do  say  that 
dratted  paint's  the  un'olesomest  thing  possible." 

She  trotted  away  as  she  spoke ;  and  thus  it  chanced 
that  for  one  moment  the  man  and  woman  so  sadly  parted, 
so  strangely  met,  were  alone.     Then  Dallas  spoke : 

"  I  thought  you  were  dead,"  he  said,  hoarsely.  "  Averil, 
Averil,  how  is  it  I  find  you  here,  and  thus  ?  For  heaven's 
sake,  speak  to  me." 

"What  do  you  want  me  to  say  ?"  she  asked,  squeezing 
her  fingers  together  with  a  desperate  effort  to  repress  the 
shiver  which  swept  over  her  whole  frame  at  the  sound  of 
his  voice.     "  I  am  dead — to  you.     Have  you  forgotten  ?  " 

"I  have  forgotten  nothing,"  he  answered,  bitterly; 
"least  of  all,  how  I  love  you,  and  how — " 

She  stood  up.  Pale  and  weak  as  she  was,  there  was  a 
mingled  terror  and  resolution  in  her  face  which  made  her 
strong  enough  to  stand.  Her  voice,  Ioav  though  it  might 
be,  sounded  wonderfully  steady. 

"  Do  not  say  any  more.  I  had  prayed  we  might  never 
meet  again.  God  has  not  granted  my  request.  Don't 
make  me  rebel  against  His  will.     Good-bye." 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW.  ^^t^^ 

^^  Good-bye!''  he  echoed.  "Do  you  mean  to  say  that 
after  all  that  has  passed,  after  only  now  finding  you — you 
whom  I  believed  dead — you  would  coldly  send  me  away 
from  you  without  one  word  of  explanation  or — " 

"It  is  because  of  all  that  has  passed  that  I  send  you 
away,"  she  interrupted,  the  same  look  of  resolution  always 
on  her  face,  her  eyes  always  turned  from  him.  "Of  all 
people  living  in  this  world,  there  is  no  man  and  woman 
have  more  cause  to  avoid  one  another  than  you  and  I. 
If  I  had  not  been  so  weak  just  now,  you — "  For  the 
first  time  her  voice  faltered  and  broke.  For  the  first  time 
the  color  rose  in  her  cheek.  "  Dallas,"  she  added,  with 
sudden,  jmthetic  earnestness,  "don't  let  us  prolong  this 
meeting,  or  add  more  sorrow  to  what  has  gone  before. 
Nothing  has  altered ;  nothing  has  changed.  Remember 
how  we  parted.  I  have  done  you  enough  injury.  I  grant 
it.     Forgive  me,  and  let  me  go." 

"Forgive  you!"  he  repeated,  passionately.  "Do  you 
think  I  have  waited  five  years  to  do  that?  Oh,  Averil ! 
why  didn't  you  say  '  Forgive  me'  then  ?  Why  didn't  you 
speak  one  word  of  gentleness  or  excuse  ?  Did  you  think 
I  meant  all  I  said  in  my  rage?     Didn't  you  know — " 

Fle  broke  off,  for  the  woman  had  come  back  with  the 
wine,  and  further  speech  was  impossible.  Averil  took  it 
and  drank  it  with  the  gratefulness  of  one  who  knew  her 
strength  needed  such  support,  saying  some  words  of 
thanks  at  the  same  time  in  her  own  gracious  manner, 
which  always  seemed  to  give  them  additional  value.  Dal- 
las stood  by,  the  while,  torn  and  quivering  with  conflict- 
ing emotions,  and  vvondering  at  her  composure — wonder- 
ing tiiat  she  (•<?///</ bend  her  head  to  him  so  gravely,  and 
from  him  so  determinately.  when  she  had  finished  with 
the  woman.  She  had  gone  some  steps  from  him  before 
he  was  at  her  side  again. 

"  You  will  let  me  go  home  with  you,  at  least  ?  "  he  said, 
low  and  earnestly.  "  I  do  not  ask  to  go  in.  Perhaj)s  for 
more  reasons  than  even  you  know  of,  it  would  be  better 
not — better  for  me,  at  least,"  and  he  laughed  bitterly. 
"You  seem  to  lake  things  coolly  enough,  but  I  must 
speak  to  you  and  nsk — " 


340  PRETTY  MISS  BELLE PV. 

"  You  must  not  speak  to  me  nor  I  answer,"  she 
broke  in  firmly,  but  hurrying  on  with  a  swift,  unsteady 
step.  "There  has  been  wrong  enough  done  already.  I 
am  not  going  to  add  to  it." 

"Who  did  the  wrong?"  he  retorted.     "Not  I." 

"No,"  she  said,  gently,  a  wonderfully  sweet  smile  light- 
ing up  her  face,  "not  you,  Dallas.  Thank  God  for  it,  not 
you.     Oh  !  be  glad  of  that,  and  do  not  begin  it  now." 

They  had  passed  through  the  narrow  covered  entrance- 
way,  and  gained  the  open  air.  The  setting  sun  was  gild- 
ing the  roof  of  the  Exhibition  opposite,  and  reddening 
all  the  western  sky.  The  dome  of  the  Albert  Hall  stood 
up  like  a  huge  dark  globe  against  the  ruby-tinted  clouds. 
A  long  stream  of  carriages  were  filtering  in  and  out  of 
the  Park  gales  at  the  top  of  the  hill,  and  the  cool  breeze 
blew  refreshingly  on  M'Kenzie's  heated  brow.  All  of  a 
sudden  he  started. 

"  Good  gracious ! "  he  exclaimed,  "  what  has  be- 
come— " 

His  color  changed,  and  he  laid  his  hand  on  Averil's  to 
stay  her. 

"I  must  go  back,"  he  said;  "I  had  forgotten.  I — 
but  stay  while  I  get  you  a  cab.  You  are  not  fit  to  walk, 
and —     What  do  you  want  ?" 

He  had  turned  irritably  to  a  small  boy,  who  was  trying 
to  attract  his  attention,  and  the  little  urchin  looked  up, 
breathing  hard,  as  if  in  haste. 

"  Oh,  please  sir,"  he  panted,  "I  runned  arter  you  with 
this.  The  young  lady  telled  me  to  give  it  you,  but  I 
couldn't  find  you  no  how  in  the  gallery." 

The  young  lady  !  Only  a  moment  before  had  Dallas 
remembered  Kate.  His  confusion  and  discomposure 
were  even  evident  to  Mrs.  Grey;  and  they  increased  as 
he  read  the  penciled  line  within  the  little  note  handed 
him : 

"  Only  to  tell  you  that  a  cab  will  be  waiting  at  the 
south  door.  I  thought  I  should  be  most  useful  in  going 
to  fetch  one.  Don't  be  angry  with  me  for  not  waiting. 
I  am  obliged  to  take  Eve  home.  K." 

"Thank  God  she  didn't  stay!  Thank  God  that  she 
suspects  nothing,"  he  said  to  himself 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW.  ^4^ 

And  then  he  turned  to  Mrs.  Grey.  For  the  first  time 
she  was  looking  at  him,  closely,  as  if  to  read  what  was 
passing  in  his  mind,  and  before  that  searching  glance  his 
eyes  fell,  and  the  red  blood  rushed  into  his  face. 

"A  cab  is  waiting  for  you  round  the  corner,"  he  said, 
hurriedly,    "Take  my  arm  and  let  me  lead  you  to  it." 

"A  cab — for  me /''  she  repeated,  wond'-ringly. 

"Yes," — but  he  still  spoke  in  quick,  nervous  tones — 
"a — a  friend  who  was  with  me,  and  saw  you  faint,  went 
for  it.     Will  you  come  ?  " 

Once  again  Mrs.  Grey  looked  at  him,  half  comprehend- 
ing this  time  the  cause  of  his  embarrassment. 

"Averil,  let  me  go  with  you  to  your  door." 

"No,"  she  said,  quietly.  "Thank  you,  but  good-bye. 
We  shall  not  meet  again  ;  and — and,  Dallas,  I  think  I 
understand.  I  remember,  now,  I  heard  her  voice,  and  I 
am  very  glad." 

"Averil,"  he  pleaded  in  an  agony,  "you  are  wrong. 
You  ihn't  understand.  For  mercy's  sake,  give  me  your 
address,  at  least.     I  must  write  to  you." 

The  tears  were  standing  in  both  their  eyes,  but  she 
shook  her  head,  and  only  clasped  her  hands  the  tighter, 
when  he  strove  to  take  one  in  his  own. 

"  It  is  better  not,"  she  .said.  "  It  would  do  no  good, 
and  you  will  own  it,  when  you  are  alone.     Good-bye." 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 


OR  NOT  AT  ALL." 


A  WARM,  sunshiny  day ;  the  air  moist,  with  no  more 
wind  than  the  breathing  of  a  sleeping  infant;  the  sky 
very  purely  blue  in  the  zenith,  but  fading  into  a  faint, 
golden  haze,  which  seemed  to  rise  from  the  horizon  and 
wrap  it  round  with  a  dreamy  glory,  like  the  halo  which 
encircles  the  memory  of  the  dead.  A  day  such  as  we 
only  get  in  autumn,  when  the  glory  of  the  lost  summer, 
Nature's  best-loved  child,  still  clings  about  its  mother's 
heart,  and  gives  a  tender  and  serene  sadness  to  theface 
of  earth  and  sky.  In  the  square,  tall  dahlias,  amber, 
black,  and  crimson  ;  sunflowers,  rank  and  greedy ;  and 
China  asters  of  every  hue,  making  bright  the  shady  beds. 
Little  Dottie,  a  brighter  flower  than  any  growing,  playing 
croquet  on  a  patch  of  gold-green  grass,  with  three  other 
wavy-locked,  short-skirted  little  damsels.  Kate,  buttoned 
up  in  a  cloth  jacket,  and  with  a  book  in  her  hand,  pacing 
up  and  down  one  of  the  ^hady  walks,  her  slim  young 
figure  now  hidden  and  now  revealed  by  the  trunks  of 
the  trees,  which  every  now  and  then  sent  a  crimson  leaf 
fluttering  down  upon  her  head  from  the  many-tinted  foli- 
age above,  or  suffered  a  stray  golden  beam  from  the 
sunny  sky  beyond,  to  bring  out  the  warm  tints  in  her 
hair,  and  throw  a  brightness  over  her  sober  little  face. 

A  very  sober  face  to  day  and  strangely  unlike  the  one 

which  Kate  was  wont  to  present  to  the  sunshine,  and  yet 

not  so  much  .sad  as  troubled  and  perplexed.      A  new  thing 

that,  for  Kate,  also;  prompt  decision,  as  often  wrong  as 

342 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV.  343 

right,  and  seldom  giving  her  time  to  indulge  in  uncertainty, 
being  rather  a  characteristic  of  Miss  Bellew's  impulsive 
disposition.  Her  lace  seemed  to  have  grown  older  too  in 
the  night — the  round,  wide-opened  eyes  shaded  by  a  half 
frown,  and  the  full  lips  compressed,  so  as  to  give  a  difterent 
expression  to  her  face. 

She  had  not  even  turned  the  pages  of  the  book  which, 
loosely  grasped  in  one  hand,  served  more  for  an  excuse 
for  her  lonely  walk  than  for  any  amusement  therein ;  but 
now,  as  a  tall  hat  showed  suddenly  over  the  shrubs  that 
skirted  the  railings,  and  a  hand  was  heard  fumbling  with 
the  lock  of  the  gate  behind  her,  her  head  did  bend  in 
sudden  newly-awakened  interest  over  the  page  for  a  mo- 
ment. The  next,  as  if  in  native  hatred  of  pretenses,  the 
volume  was  sharply  closed,  and  turning  round,  Kate 
shifted  it  into  the  other  hand,  that  she  might  open  the  gate 
for  Dallas  M'Kenzie.  He  had  put  his  hand  over  to  turn 
the  key  for  himself,  but  his  fingers  seemed  to  have  a  sort 
of  nervous  quiver  in  them,  and  his  face  was  pale  and  lined. 

"How  did  you  find  me  out?"  said  Katie.  "Have  you 
been  to  the  house  ?  " 

She  looked  him  full  in  the  face  with  a  pleasant  smile  of 
greeting,  but,  with  a  book  in  one  hand  and  the  gate  in 
the  other,  it  was  not  easy  to  offer  the  new-comer  anything 
to  shake,  and  he  did  not  seem  to  expect  it. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  shutting  the  gate  for  her  and  then  turn- 
ing to  walk  at  her  side,  "I  went  to  the  door,  but  they — 
the  servant  told  me  you  were  in  the  square,  so  I  didn't  go 
in." 

"I  am  glad  you  didn't,"  said  Kate,  "for  mamma  has 
one  of  her  headaches,  and  you  would  only  have  seen  Eve. 
But  won't  you  come  in  now  ?  " 

"Not  unless  you  were  going  to  do  so.  I  couldn't  come 
yesterday  evening — that  is,  I  knew  of  course  that  you 
were  going  out,  and  when  I  got  away  it  was  so  much 
later  than  I  thought,  that  I  was  afraid  I  should  only  in- 
terrupt your  dressing.  I  was  so  vexed  that  you  went  home 
alone,  Kate." 

"  I  was  afraid  that  it  looked  rather  unfeeling,"  said 
Kate,  whose  cheeks  had  grown  very  red,  "but  it  was  not 


344 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 


my  fault.  Eve  is  not  strong,  you  know,  and  she  wanted 
to  get  back  so  much  that  I  had  no  choice.  Mamma 
would  never  have  forgiven  me  if  1  had  let  her  go  alone. 
And  I  sent  a  woman  to  relieve  you.  You  got  my  note, 
didn't  you  ?     Indeed  I  wanted  to  stay." 

"Your  note?  Oh,  yes!  You  were  most  kind  and 
thoughtful.  It  was  on  your  account  only  that  I  was 
vexed — lest  you  might  think  me  inattentive,  I  mean," 
M'Kenzie  explained,  hardly  knowing  whether  to  be  re- 
lieved or  embarrassed  that  things  had  taken  the  turn  of 
Katie's  apologizing  to  Imn.  Her  face,  as  she  answered, 
did  not  enlighten  him. 

"Inattentive!  I  could  not  think  you  that  when  you 
were  attending  to  a  poor  woman  who  had  fainted.  I  knew 
the  only  thing  for  her  was  to  carry  her  out  of  the  smell  of  the 
paint,  and  those  crowding  people,  and  you  were  the  only 
person  to  do  it." 

"Yes,"  he  said,  eagerly,  "a  woman  would  not  have 
been  strong  enough,  and  it  would  have  been  too  brutal  to 
have  left  her  there.  I  knew  you  would  see  that,  and 
- — and  not  be  vexed  with  me." 

"Did  she  come  to  soon?"  asked  Kate,  rather  coolly. 

"  No — at  least,  it  seemed  a  long  time." 

"You  saw  her  home,  I  suppose.  Did  she  tell  you  she 
knew  me  ?  " 

"No!  Do  you  know  her,  Katie?  How,  in  the  name 
of  wonder?  But  I  did  not  see  her  home  ;  she  would  not 
have  allowed  me,  even  if  I  had  wished  it.  I  don't  even 
know  her  address.     You  believe  me,  Kate,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Believe  you  ?  Of  course,"  said  Kate,  composedly. 
"It  would  be  rather  funny  if  you  and  I  didn't  believe  one 
another,  wouldn't  it  ?  But  I'll  tell  you  how  I  know  her. 
I  met  her  at  the  seaside.  She  was  lodging  at  a  farm, 
and  I  went  to  see  her  because  she  was  an  artist,  and  ill. 
Bee  Vanborough  said  it  was  wrong,  but  I  didn't  think 
about  it  at  the  time.  She  told  me  her  name  was  Mrs. 
Clewer,  and  she  went  away  suddenly  one  day,  leaving 
me  that  picture  I  showed  you,  and  which — you  know  " 
■ — breaking  off  in  her  sentence,  with  a  quick  look  in  his 
face — "  I  heard  afterwards  that  she  had  been  a  conipan- 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW.  34- 

ion  of  Lady  Van  borough's.     TJiere  she  called  herself '  Mrs. 
Grey.'     Mr.  Clive  got  her  the  situation." 

"  Clive !  Clive,  did  you  say  ?  Nonsense  !  It  couldn't 
be.  Where  can  he  have  met  her?"  Dallas  broke  in  with 
great  agitation,  which  sobered  down  into  a  flush  of  shame 
before  the  wondering  look  in  Kate's  eyes. 

"You  had  better  ask  him,"  she  said,  with  a  good  deal 
of  quiet  dignity.  "  I  have  told  you  all  I  know  of  my 
own  self  If  you  want  to  know  more,  you  must  go  to 
Lady  Vanborough  or  Mr.  Clive." 

And,  iiaving  made  her  explanation,  Kate  turned  as  if 
to  go  into  the  house.  M'Kenzie  laid  his  hand  on  her 
arm,  checking  her,  a  look  of  real  distress  and  contrition 
on  his  face. 

"  Katie,  my  dearest,  don't  speak  to  me  in  that  tone. 
Sit  down  on  this  bench  a  moment.  Indeed,  I  am  not  to 
blame  in  the  way  you  think.  Onlv  sit  down,  and  let  me 
tell  you." 

"I  don't  think  anything  yet,"  said  Kate,  sitting  down 
with  most  unaffected  readiness  to  hear.  "I  don't  want 
to  think  till  you  have  tokl  me." 

"That  is  all  very  well,"  said  M'Kenzie,  taking  one 
chilly  hand  in  his,  and  stooping  to  see  into  her  face, 
"but  do  you  mean  that  you  and  your  sister  have  not 
been  already  blaming  and  condemning  me  for  yesterday's 
occurrence;  and  all  the  more  from  my  not  being  able  to 
come  at  once  and  explain  it  to  you  ?  I  know  women 
better  than  that." 

"1  don't  see  why  we  need  trouble  about  my  sister," 
said  Kate,  with  a  keen  sense  of  how  she  had  been  made 
to  suffer  from  Eve's  msinuations  and  pity,  and  how  hard 
a  fight  she  had  had  in  i)ersuading  that  young  lady  to 
keep  both  for  the  innocent  victim  only  till  the  culprit 
should  choose  to  make  his  explanations.  "As  to  my 
blaming  you,  Dallas — but  I  should  have  thought  you 
knew  how  I  love  you  well  enough  to  trust  me  for  that." 

"Do  you  love  me  well  enough  to  trust  me,  Katie?" 

"  I  should  not  be  engaged  to  you  if  i  didn't,"  she  an- 
swered, with  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"Yet  you  did  not  this  moment.  I  don't  think  you  do 
now — quite." 


346  PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 

"I  try,"  she  said,  brokenly.  Then,  with  a  great  efifort 
at  generosity,  "  I  will,  Dallas.  You  need  not  tell  me 
unless  you  like.     Indeed  I  trust  you!" 

"  My  own  dear  little  girl ! "  he  said,  with  real  fondness, 
drawing  her  closer  to  him,  and  lifting  her  hand  to  his 
lips.  "  My  love  !  If  I  only  were  worthy  of  you  ! "  Then 
feeling  her  shrink  ever  so  Httle,  in  involuntary  remem- 
brance of  the  word  "love"  she  had  heard  him  use  to  an- 
other woman  yesterday,  he  added,  hurriedly : 

"  Kate,  I  had  a  great  shock  yesterday ;  I  could  not 
come  to  you  till  I  had  got  over  it.  Cannot  you  guess 
who  that  lady  was  who  fainted  in  the  Picture  Gallery — 
fainted  at  the  sight  of  7?ie?  Don't  let  us  use  any  dis- 
guises about  it;  there  need  be  none  with  you." 

Slowly,  but  quite  decidedly,  Kate  shook  her  head. 
She  still  held  herself  rather  away  from  her  lover,  and  her 
face  had  grown  very  pale.  It  grew  paler  yet,  and  the 
distance  between  them  increased  when  he  added, 
huskily: 

"  Do  you  remember  the  story  I  told  you  on  the  terrace 
at  the  Gores'  ?  That  woman  is  my — is  the  girl  I  married 
at  S.  Louis-sur-Eaux — the  false  wife  I  thought  drowned 
four  years  ago  in  the  Hudson." 

A  dead  silence.  One  or  two  crumpled  yellow  leaves  rus- 
tled waveringly  down,  first  on  to  Dallas's  shoulder,  then  on 
to  the  ground  below.  A  couple  of  linnets  flew  pecketing 
about  in  the  boughs  overhead.  There  was  a  sound  of 
water  dripping,  drop  by  drop,  from  a  trough  running 
round  the  weedy  old  summer-house  behind  them.  Noth- 
ing more. 

"Katie,"  said  Dallas,  his  voice  low  and  shaken,  "won't 
you  speak  to  me  ?  Have  you  nothing  to  say  ?"  He  tried 
to  take  her  hand  again,  but  she  almost  snatched  it  from 
him,  and  covered  her  face  with  it,  half  sobbing: 

"One  moment!  I  will  in  one  moment! — Oh,  Dallas! 
— Do  you  mean  really  ? — Are  you  sure  ?" 

"I  wish  I  were  not!"  he  answered,  bitterly. 

"Oh,  don't  say  that!  Dallas,  I  am  so  glad,  so  glad. 
Oh,  didn't  I  know—  !" 

"Glad!"  he  repeated,  in  almost  angry  wonder.  "I 
should  like  to  know  vvhv!" 


FRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV.  3.^7 

"Don't  be  vexed  with  me,"  and  she  turned  her  shining 
eyes  and  glowing  cheeks  to  him;  "  I  could  only  think  at 
first  how  little  other  people  knew  you !  I  was  sure  I 
could  trust  you,  my  good,  noble  Dallas —  Oh,  poor 
fellow!  poor  fellow!"  as  her  face  suddenly  altered.  "I 
know  it  is  terrible  for  you  !  But  I  couldn't  help  being 
glad  that  you  were  as  good  and  great  as  I  had  always 
thought  you." 

"You  are  a  silly  child,"  he  said,  too  sadly  for  much 
gratitude.  "  But  I  am  glad  you  can  trust  me.  You  may. 
Shall  we  go  into  the  house  now  ?  You  will  be  catching 
cold  sitting  out  here." 

"Not  just  yet,"  she  said,  putting  her  hand  for  the  first 
time  in  his,  and  looking  in  his  face.  "Dallas,  you  look 
very  ill.     This  has  been  a  great  blow  to  you." 

He  turned  away  his  head  with  some  impatience.  "  My 
dear,  if  you  were  a  little  older,  you  would  understand 
that  without  asking." 

"  You  loved  her  so  very  mucli,"  she  persisted,  half  in- 
quiringly. The  cloud  on  his  face  deepened ;  he  turned  on 
her,  sharply : 

"  So  much,  that  if  I  had  known  she  was  alive  and  here, 
I  would  have  stayed  in  Canada,  Mexico,  anywhere,  at  the 
other  side  of  the  world,  that  I  might  not  run  the  risk  of 
seeing  her  face  again,  when  the  sight  can  only  bring  me 
the  pain  I  am  suflering  now.  How  little  you  understand 
such  things!" 

"I  am  learning  to  understand,"  she  said,  very  simply; 
but  something  in  her  voice,  and  in  the  white  look  which 
had  come  over  her  face,  showed  Dallas  how  passionately 
he  had  spoken.  He  tried  to  apologize;  but  she  stoj:)ped 
him  at  the  first  word. 

"  I  think  I  understand  more  than  you  do.  This  lady 
— Mrs.  Grey,  or  Clewer — you  think  ^ry,  very  wicked ; 
that  she  deceived  you  dreadfully.  That  was  the  least 
part  of  the  sin,  of  course" — a  start  at  this  from  M'Ken- 
zie,  who  opened  his  eyes  somewhat — "but  still  it  was  bad 
enough.  Dallas,  I  don't  think  so.  I'm  sure  there  must 
have  been  some  mistake.  Oh.  don't  be  angry  !  Remem- 
ber, I've  seen,  I've  spoken  to  her.     A  woman  can't  be  so 


348  i'RE  TTY  MISS  BELLE  W. 

mistaken  in  anothe'^  woman  as  I  should  be,  if  she  were 
the  vile — " 

He  stopped  her,  not  angrily,  but  authoritatively. 
'•  Hush  !  Never  hint  at  that  possibility.  If  you  love  me, 
be  silent !     It  is  not  even  possible,  but — " 

"If  it  were?"  she  suggested,  timidly. 

"  If  it  were — then  for  my  sake — both  our  sakes — never 
think  of  it,  or  speak  your  thought  to  me.  Great  heav- 
ens !     If  it  were — " 

"You  would  not  have  asked  me  to  marry  you  then, 
would  you?"  she  asked,  looking  up  earnestly  into  his 
face. 

"Would  that  have  made  a  live  man  dead  or  altered 
our  lives  ?  But  it  is  not  so.  Child,  how  can  you  talk 
so?" 

"  Because  I  think — indeed,  my  dear  Dallas,"  and  her  lips 
quivered,  but  she  spoke  bravely,  "  I  think  1  ought  to  set 
you  free.     I  think  you  ought  not  to  go  on  with  this." 

"  Free  ! "  he  repeated,  with  such  a  sudden  blaze  of  color 
in  his  face,  such  a  light  in  his  eyes,  that  she  shrank  back, 
thinking  it  anger;  and  he,  fearful  that  he  had  betrayed 
himself,  and  deadlily  ashamed  of  the  consciousness  of 
what  the  momentary  sound  of  that  word  "free"  had  been 
to  him,  hastened  to  extinguish  the  thought  in  half-simu- 
lated harshness.  "  Free  !  Throw  me  over,  you  mean  ! 
Is  that  what  you  want,  Kate  ?  And  -^ovXAyou  do  it  too  ? 
I  thought  you,  at  least,  loved  me." 

"You  know  I  do,"  said  Kate,  the  tears  brimming  in  her 
eyes.  "  I  wish  you  didn't  know  it  so  well,  for  then  you 
could  judge  better.  Oh,  Dallas  dear!  be  fair  with  me. 
It  is  different  now  you  know  she  is  alive  ;  and  suppose — " 

"Kate,  I  will  not  hear  that  'suppose.'  Do  you  forget 
the  proofs?     I  know,  and  only  too  well." 

"But  you  did  not  know  she  was  living,"  Kate  persisted, 
pleading  against  her  own  heart,  and  with  a  great  lump  in 
her  throat,  which  seemed  as  if  it  would  choke  her. 

"What  difference  does  that  make?  Are  not  five  years' 
sacrifice  enough  to  one  woman's  wrong  doing  ?  Is  my 
whole  life  to  be  made  desolate  by  her  memory  ?  I  have 
been  fair  with  you.     Kate,  I  told  you  the  whole  misei 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE W. 


349 


able  story  when  most  men  would  have  hidden  it  from 
you.  If  it  did  not  weigh  then  against  your  marrying  me, 
it  should  not  weigh  now.  Of  course  if  you  choose  to 
take  offense  at  my  surprise  of  yesterday — though,  as  you 
see,  I  am  here  at  your  side,  not  even  knowing  the  wom- 
an's present  name  or  address — if  you  watit  your  freedom 
back—" 

"  Dallas,  you  know  it  is  not  that !  "  cried  poor  Kate, 
in  an  agony.  "You  know  how  I  love  you,  and  it  is  only 
that  I  want  you  to  be  happy." 

"I  thought  and  hoped  you  were  going  to  make  me 
happy." 

"  I  couldn't  if  you  did  not  love  me,"  she  whispered, 
turning  her  head  against  his  shoulder  to  hide  her  tears. 

"  My  dearest  child,  I  do  love  you,  the  same  now  as  I 
ever  did,"  he  cried,  touched  by  her  innocence  and  affec- 
tion, and  asking  himself  what  the  man  would  deserve 
who  could  break  faith  with  such  a  little  childish  thing. 
The  leaves  were  still  thick  enough*  6n  the  trees  to  serve 
as  a  screen,  and  he  turned  up  her  face  to  his,  and  kissed 
it  twice  tenderly.  "My  darling,  can't  you  trust  my  love 
as  well  as  me?"  he  asked,  holding  her  to  him  and  trying 
to  smile. 

"  It  is  because  I  do  trust  you,  and  know  how  good  you 
are,  that  I  am  afraid  that  even  if  you  still  cared  for  her — " 

"  Remember  that  you  are  speaking  of  another  man's 
wife,"  he  said,  sternly. 

"But  he  might  die — be  dead  even  now.     Oh,  Dallas!" 

"My  dear  love,  were  he  twenty  times  dead,  his  widow 
could  never  be  ray  wife.  A  woman  who  acted  as  she 
did  might  be  forgiven,  but  not  so  far.  Come,  Katie,  you 
don't  really  want  to  throw  me  over,  and  leave  me  all 
alone,  as  you  found  me  ? — you,  who  are  all  I  have." 

"You  know  I  don't,  unless  it  were  for  your  good,"  she 
said,  the  happy  smile  stealing  back,  as  she  leaned  her  head 
against  him. 

"  My  good  is  bound  up  in  you,  so  never  speak  of  this 
again.  It  was  an  unfortunate  accident,  but  it  could  not 
be  helped.  Now  let  neither  of  us  ever  mention  it  again. 
Promise  me,  Kate." 


35° 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 


"  If  you — like,"  said  she,  hesitatingly,  but  with  an  un- 
easy recollection  of  that  pale,  sorrowful  face,  with  its  calm 
eyes  and  noble  brow.  "  Only — Dallas,  you  said  she  had 
no  relations,  and  she  looks  so  ill.  Do  you  think  she 
could  be  very  poor  ?  " 

"Hush!"  he  said,  wincing  visibly.  "That  is  not  for 
you  to  trouble  about.  I  have  spoken  to  a  lawyer — Mr. 
Clive.     If  she  is  in  want,  he  will  relieve  her." 

"You  are  very  generous,"  said  Kate,  worshipingly; 
"but  Mr.  Clive  !     It  is  very  strange  !  " 

"  Ah  !  what  did  you  say  about  him  ?  " 

Kate  repeated  it,  and  now  with  Lady  Vanborough's 
suppositions  as  to  the  lawyer,  too,  having  lost  his  heart 
to  this  terrible  and  all-conquering  woman.  "Not  that 
she  believed  it,"  she  said,  thinking  to  herself  that  if  he 
had  done  so,  he  had  certainly  got  over  it  before  he  came 
to  Combe  Regis,  unless — unless  it  could  have  been  pique 
— not  a  pleasant  idea,  that;  and  yet,  if  true,  might  it  not 
account  for  his  brusque,  unloverlike  manner  ?  Ah  !  what 
did  it  matter,  though,  Kate  thought,  while  she  loved 
Dallas,  and  Dallas  loved  her  ?  She  stole  a  look  at  him 
half  timidly,  as  if  expecting  to  meet  his  eyes  watching 
her ;  but  they  were  turned  on  vacancy,  his  hands  were 
knotted  together,  and  his  brow  corrugated,  as  though  in 
attempt  to  solve  some  weighty  question  ;  and  Kate  felt 
her  heart  sink  with  a  sudden  unaccountable  load  of  doubt 
and  misgiving. 

"Shall  we  call  Dottie,  and  go  into  the  house?"  she 
said,  rising,  and  the  violent  start  he  gave  showed  how  far 
away  from  her  his  mind  had  gone. 

"No,  dear,  no,"  he  answered,  hurriedly.  "I  can't  stay 
now.     Good-bye." 

And  with  a  hasty  pressure  of  her  hand,  a  forced  smile 
of  adieu,  he  was  gone,  letting  himself  out  without  even  a 
backward  glance  in  answer  to  Dottie's  cry  of  recognition. 
Kate  stood  within  the  gate,  her  eyes  so  blinded  by  a  mist 
of  unshed  tears  that  she  never  saw  some  one  crossing  the 
road  till  a  voice  said  : 

"Open  the  gate,  Katie.  So  you  went  into  the  square 
to  have  your  interview  in  private !     I   hope  he  has  ex 


PRETTY  MISS  BRLLEW. 


351 


plained —  My  dear  Kittie,  you're  not  crying,  are  you  ? 
Do  come  in !     Some  one  will  be  sure  to  see," 

And  the  tall,  slim  blonde  looked  sharply  into  her  sis- 
ter's tell-tale  face,  while  Dallas,  who  should  have  been 
there  to  answer  for  himself,  was  hurrying  down  the  street, 
repeating  to  himself: 

"Clive  got  her  the  situation!  dive,  the  lawyer,  who 
saw  us  married!  Why  didn't  he  tell  me?  How  comes 
he  to  know  her  ?  I  must  see  him  at  once,  and  find  out 
Avhat  he  does  know.  She  is  not  beguiling  him,  and  he 
me  !  What  a  blind,  mad,  besotted  fool  he  must  think 
me,  if  that  be  so  !  " 

When  Clive  came  back  from  court  that  day,  it  was  to 
learn  that  Mr.  M'Kenzie  had  called  twice  to  see  him,  and 
had  left  his  card,  on  which  was  scrawled  an  urgent  re- 
quest that  he  would  call  that  evening  at  the  Canadian's 
rooms. 

Bernard  shook  his  head. 

"  Not  so,"  he  said.  "  That  man  will  never  let  me  alone 
if  I  give  in  to  his  folly,  and  the  end  will  be,  Kate  sacri- 
ficed, and  for  what?  No,  no;  she  loves  him,  and  he 
shall  marry  her — if  I  can  keep  him  to  it,  that  is.  Now 
to  go  and  see  Mrs.  Grey." 

23 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

THE  TRUTH  AT  LAST. 

KATE  was  away  from  home.  Both  her  hitherto  unsha- 
ken health  and  childishly  high  spirits  had  given  way 
so  completely  during  the  last  few  weeks,  that  Lady  Mar- 
garet had  taken  advantage  of  the  house  requiring  doing 
up  in  preparation  for  the  approaching  nuptials,  to  insist 
on  her  accepting  an  invitation  for  herself  and  little  Dottie 
from  an  old  friend  who  lived  at  Fulham. 

Mrs.  Clifton  Gore,  the  friend  with  whom  she  was  now 
staying,  was  the  wife  of  a  very  clever  barrister,  one  of 
Bernard  Clive's  most  intimate  friends.  It  was  at  a  ball 
given  at  their  house  in  the  summer  that  Dallas  had  pro- 
posed and  been  accepted ;  and  Mrs.  Gore,  who  was 
aware  of  the  circumstance,  and  was  a  very  sweet  and 
happy  young  wife  herself,  had  felt  an  increased  and 
thoroughly  womanly  interest  in  both  lovers  ever  since. 
She  invited  Mr.  M'Kenzie  to  come  as  well  during  the 
latter  part  of  Kale's  visit;  and  she  told  the  young  lady 
so,  with  a  cordial  kiss,  when  she  found  her  standing,  with 
a  very  pensive  face  and  one  hand  tightly  clasped  in  Dot- 
tie's,  at  the  corner  of  the  terrace  where  Dallas  had  told 
the  story  of  his  first  love  and  his  last. 

They  were  all  enjoying  the  late  warmth  and  sunshine 
one  afternoon,  Mr.  Gore  and  his  brother-in-law  smoking 
their  cigars  on  the  terrace,  with  little  Jack  and  Dottie 
playing  with  a  litter  of  Newfoundland  puppies  near  them ; 
and  Mrs.  Gore  sitting  just  inside  the  French  window, 
near  enough  to  join  in  the  conversation,  and  with  her 
352 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW.  353 

baby  kicking  up  its  dimpled  toes,  and  crowing  with  satis- 
faction, on  a  cushion  at  her  feet.  Kate  had  been  sitting 
beside  her ;  but  Mrs.  Gore  had  sent  her  into  the  garden 
to  get  some  late  white  roses  which  grew  on  a  wall  near 
the  river  walk ;  and  Dallas  had  followed  her. 

He  was  in  better  spirits  to-day  than  had  been  the  case 
for  some  time  back — made  Kate  hapjjy  by  telling  her  that 
he  had  missed  her  terribly,  and  teased  her  so  gaily  about 
her  o1)Stinacy  in  ])ersisting  in  gathering  the  roses,  thorns 
and  all,  for  herself  instead  of  letting  him  do  it,  that  she 
tossed  her  pretty  head  with  a  saucy  smile,  and  told  him 
that  if  he  must  needs  be  so  officious,  he  could  go  and  get 
her  a  pair  of  garden  scissors  from  the  summer-house  at 
the  other  end  of  the  garden. 

He  must  have  been  very  quick  about  his  errand ;  for 
she  had  barely  time  to  spring  up  for  a  cluster  of  buds, 
rather  too  high  for  her  grasp,  and  to  scratch  her  fingers 
badly  in  the  effort,  when  the  manly  tread  was  heard  again 
on  the  gravel  behind  her;  and  she  turned  round  laughing, 
with,  "  What,  back  already !  Did  you  make  haste  that 
you  might  see  your  prediction  veri — "  and  there  she 
stopped  abruptly,  and  blushed  scarlet ;  for  the  gentleman 
addressed  was  not  Dallas,  but  a  stranger — a  tali,  fair 
young  man,  painfully  consumptive-looking,  and  with  a 
clerical  tie  peeping  behind  the  collar  of  his  thick  overcoat. 

"  Mrs.  Gore,  I  ])resume,"  he  said,  lifting  his  hat,  and 
sliowing  a  face  strangely  suggestive  of  some  one  Kate 
knew,  though  whom  she  could  not  at  the  moment  re- 
member. "I  am  afraid  I  am  intruding;  but  I  had  occa- 
sion to  call  on  a  guest  of  yours,  Mr.  M'Kenzie,  on  urgent 
business;  and  hearing  that  he  was  stajnng  here,  took  the 
liberty  of  coming  down  to  see  him.  The  servant  told  me 
I  should  find  him  by  the  river ;   or — " 

*'  He  was  here  a  moment  ago,"  said  Kate,  relieving  the 
visitor's  evident  embarrassment  by  her  pretty,  easy  grace- 
fulness. "I  am  not  Mrs.  Gore,  only  a  guest  of  Tier's; 
but  he  has  only  gone  to  get  something  for  me.  I  will 
call  him  if  you  like." 

"  Oh,  thank  you ;  but  pray  don't  trouble.  I  can  wait 
easily,"  was  the  courteous  answer;  and  there  was  some- 


354 


FRET  TV  MISS  BELLEW. 


thing  in  the  voice  so  much  more  famiUar  than  the  face, 
that  Kate  could  not  help  exclaiming : 

"  Ought  not  I  to  know  you  ?     I  fancy — " 

"My  brother  knows  the  Gores  very  well,"  the  visitor 
broke  in.  "  My  name  is  Clive — Philip  Clive.  You  may 
have  heard  him  speak  of  me;  but  I  have  only  just  re- 
turned from  Canada,  and  am  a  stranger  here.  Indeed,  if 
I  had  not  been  the  bearer  of  a  death-bed  commission  to 
Mr.  M'Kenzie — " 

'■'■From  Gz^art'a  .-^ "  repeated  Kate.  The  bright  color 
faded  out  of  her  cheeks,  leaving  them  whiter  than  the 
roses ;  and  the  blossoms  fell  from  her  cold,  nerveless  fin- 
gers, Vv'ith  a  low  rustle,  to  the  ground.  She  sat  down 
suddenly  on  the  rustic  bench  beside  her,  with  a  feeling  as 
if  her  knees  had  suddenly  given  way,  and  made  a  mute 
gesture  that  he  should  do  the  same. 

"Will  you  wait  here? — I — 1  know  your  brother,"  said 
the  poor  little  girl,  forcing  a  strange,  wan  smile.  "  He  is  a 
great  friend  of  ours.  Yes,  I  have  heard  of  you,  too,"  and 
a  little  shiver  made  the  words  half  inaudible,  as  she 
thought  with  whom  connected.  "Your  voice  is  just  like 
his." 

"The  only  likeness  between  us,  I  trust,"  said  Philip, 
haughtily,  the  hectic  spot  deepening  in  his  thin  face.  "  I 
beg  your  pardon,  but  the  fact  is,  Bernard  and  I  have 
hardly  a  point  in  common.  At  this  very  moment  he  is 
behaving  in  the  most  extraordinary  way,  thwarting  me  in 
my  efforts  to  right  one  who  has  been  most  cruelly  wronged, 
actually  declining  to  give  me  Mr.  M'Kenzie's  address — I 
found  it  out  without  him,  however — " 

"  Hush  !  there  he  is  with  Mr.  M'Kenzie,"  said  Kate. 
"They  are  at  the  door  of  the  summer-house.  Let  us  go 
to  them."  There  was  no  surprise  or  agitation  in  her 
tone.  She  spoke  very  low,  almost  in  a  whisper;  and  if 
Philip  had  looked  at  her  he  would  have  been  horrified  by 
the  change  five  minutes  had  wrought.  This  white-faced 
woman,  with  darkly-lined,  pain-laden  eyes,  was  no  more 
like  the  brilliant,  smiling  girl  he  had  found  among  the 
roses,  than  if  she  had  been  the  latter's  wraith. 

But  he  had  risen  to  his  feet  with  a  look  of  fierce  anger 
which  swept  away  all  thought  of  anybody  else. 


FRETTY  MISS  BELLE  W. 


355 


"Bernard  here !  "  he  exclaimed,  vehemently.  "  So  he 
has  tried  to  be  before  me,  has  he  ?  and  perhaps  to  get 
M'Kenzie  out  of  the  way.  'Because  the  man  is  going  to 
be  married,'  forsooth  !  As  if  that  were  any  reason  he 
should  not  take  back  a  calumny  which  is  blighting  an 
innocent  life!  Excuse  me,  I  must  go  to  them  at  once. 
This  is  a  private  matter." 

"Not  from  ine,  I  think,"  said  Kate,  gently.  "You  are 
quite  right ;  but — it  is  I  who  was  going  to  marry  Mr. 
M'Kenzie;  and  I  will  see  that  you  can  speak  freely  to 
him.  Bernard  shall  not  prevent  wrong  being  righted  for 
— for  any  one's  sake;"  and  before  Philip  could  recover 
from  his  conscience-stricken  silence,  she  had  led  him 
along  the  laurestinus-bordered  path  to  the  summer-house, 
at  the  door  of  which  the  two  other  men  were  talking  too 
earnestly  to  notice  their  approach,  and  startled  them  both 
by  her  quiet  announcement : 

"  Dallas,  here  is  Mr.  Philip  Clive.  He  wishes  to  speak  to 
you  on  a  matter  of  importance." 

Dallas  turned  round,  flushing  violently. 

"Kate!" — then  turning  angrily  to  Bernard,  "you  never 
told  me,  sir,  that  your  brother  was  here. — Mr.  Philip 
Clive,"  and  he  spoke  with  strongly  repressed  emotion  and 
bitterness,  "  I  should  be  glad  to  see  you,  but  I  have  just 
given  my  word  to  your  brother  not  to  communicate 
with  you  on  the  subject  you  come  about  except  through 
him." 

"My  brother!  What  has  he  to  do  with  my  affairs?" 
cried  Philip ;  but  Bernard  checked  him,  an  air  of  keen 
disappointment  and  depression  in  his  tone. 

"  Nothing.  I  come  too  late.  Mr.  M'Kenzie,  I  release 
you  from  your  engagement. — Miss  Bellew,"  going  up  to 
her  with  a  look  of  anxious,  kindly  earnestness  on  his  face, 
"these  gentlemen  are  too  intent  on  their  Canadian  busi- 
ness to  have  leisure  for  you  and  me.  Will  you  let  me 
take  you  back  to  the  house  ?  I  have  a  message  for  you 
from  Miss  Eve." 

He  spoke  trying  to  divert  her  attention  ;  but  Kate  put 
an  ice-cold  little  hand  in  his  without  looking  at  him,  and 
said  in  the  same  low,  strange  voice : 


356 


PR  BITTY  MISS  BELLE  IV. 


"  I  would  rather  stay,  thank  you. — I  may,  Dallas,  may 
I  not  ?  This  concerns  me  as  much  as  you  ;  and  it  is  bet- 
ter we  should  both  hear  it  from  Mr.  Philip  Clive  at  the 
same  time." 

She  did  not  wait  for  an  answer,  but  led  the  way  into  the 
summer-house,  and  sat  down.  Dallas  seemed  too  irreso- 
lute and  agitated  to  reply.  He  had  lost  his  nerve  in  the 
unexpected  conjunction  of  events  and  people;  and  Philip's 
eager  determination  to  speak  in  contrast  to  Kate's  emo- 
tionless quiet  seemed  to  bewilder  him.  He  looked  at  her 
as  if  about  to  dissent;  but  then  his  eyes  went  back  to 
Philip,  who  was  drawing  a  bundle  of  papers  from  the 
pocket  of  his  overcoat ;  and  he  too  sat  down  on  the  other 
side  of  the  roughly-carved  little  table  in  the  centre,  and 
folded  his  arms  on  it.  Bernard  leaned  against  the  ivy- 
wreathed  pillar  with  crossed  arms  and  tightened,  disap- 
proving lips,  and  eyes  bent  on  Kate's  drooping  head. 

"  I  shall  not  detain  you  long,"  Philip  said,  nervously, 
fumbling  at  his  papers.  "  Had  I  known  with  whom  you 
were  staying — but  I  promised  a  dying  wretch  to  finish  this 
duty  for  him ;  and  as  it  is  a  case  of  foul  slander,  in  which 
you  were  made  an  innocent  party — "  He  stopped  to 
cough,  a  long,  hollow,  convulsive  cough,  which  brought 
a  fresh  furrow  of  concern  to  Bernard's  brow.  Dallas 
looked  up  quickly. 

"What  slander  have  I  been  a  party  to  ?  "  he  asked. 
"I  don't  understand  you." 

"You  will  in  a  moment.  If  I  were  to  read  all  these," 
touching  the  papers  before  him,  "it  would  take  too  long; 
and  this  cough  (though  it  is  nothing,  really  nothing  at  all) 
interrupts  me ;  but  I  have  made  a  summary  of  them ; 
and  you  can  stop  me  if  you  find  occasion.  To  com- 
mence with  what  concerns  yourself:  you  were  married  on 
the  nth  of  April  186-,  at  S.  Louis-sur-Eaux,  a  village  in 
the  province  of  Three  Rivers,  to  Miss  Averil  Gertrude 
Ray,  a  resident  of  that  place." 

"Go  on,"  said  M'Kenzie,  hoarsely.  At  the  first  men- 
tion of  his  marriage  his  eyes  had  wandered  to  Kate;  but 
she  neither  mojved  nor  looked  up,  and  they  came  back  to 
the  speaker,  and  never  strayed  again.  Philip  had  only 
paused  for  breath.     He  went  on  reading. 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 


357 


"  Half-an-hour  after  your  wedding  you  received  a  letter 
from  a  Mr.  Milbank,  informing  you  that  Miss  Ray  was 
already  married  to  the  writer;  that  they  had  been  obliged 
to  separate  on  account  of  money  matters;  but  that  the 
lady  was  not  only  aware  of  his  existence,  but  had  been 
corresjjonding  with  him  till  within  the  last  few  days. 
This  person  also  enclosed  a  certificate  which  he  de- 
clared—" 

"Was  it  false  then  ?"  M'Kenzie  broke  in  with  a  vehe- 
mence which  almost  shook  the  little  building;  "was  this 
man  tiot  her  husband,  and  I  deceived  ?" 

"  Deceived  ! "  repeated  Philip,  in  a  voice  of  bitter  scorn  ; 
"how  could _)>(?«  be  deceived  ?  you  who,  day  by  day,  had 
seen  the  character  of  your  betrothed  open  to  you  as  the 
pages  of  the  Bible — you  who,  if  you  did  not  cast  any  ac- 
cusation affecting  her  honor  from  you  as  you  would  the 
tlirt  from  your  feet,  must  have  sifted  it  to  the  very  bottom 
before  even  offending  her  ears  with  it!  How  could  you 
be  deceived,  when  having,  as  of  course  you  had,  taken 
this  ordinary  stej3^  you  went  to  her,  and  hurled  her  dis- 
grace in  her  face,  loading  her  with  vituperation  and  oblo- 
([uy,  and  heaping  on  her  every  malediction  and  reproach 
which  a  madman  (I  beg  your  pardon,  a  virtuous  and  in- 
jured man  !)  could  find  it  in  his  vocabulary  to  utter — " 

"Go  on,"  repeated  M'Kenzie,  an  ominous  frown  on 
his  brow.  "You  are  a  clergyman,  I  see.  Spare  sneers 
which  cannot  be  answered  as  I  would  answer  them  on 
another  man,  and — go  on.      Was  she  married  ?  " 

"Of  course  she  was,"  Philip  retorted,  with  the  same 
contem])tuous  smile,  "and  to,  this  Milbank.  (You'll  find 
fault  with  ray  sneering  at  //////  perhaps;  I  can't  help  that. 
Clergyman  or  no  clergyman,  1  must.)  When  Averil  was 
a  girl  of  nineteen,  this  man — a  young  fellow  then,  and  an 
attorney — was  employed  in  unraveling  some  speculations 
in  which  her  !i.xther  was  mixed  up.  Mr.  Ray  was  a  weak 
man,  as  innocent  as  a  baby,  and  as  ignorant  of  business. 
'l"he  s])cculation  was  a  huge  swindle;  several  people  were 
ruined  by  it.  There  was  a  hue  and  cry  for  the  promoters, 
and — he  was  one  of  them.  Milbank  had  the  papers, 
knew  all  about  it  from  the  first,  and  bad  it  in  his  power 


358        ■  PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 

to  show  the  poor  old  man  as  innocent  of  double-dealing 
as  he  really  was,  or  denounce  him  as  the  cheat  circum- 
stances made  him  appear.  What  do  you  think  he  did  ? 
Went  to  the  house  where  Mr.  Ray  was  lying  ill  (the  shock 
and  agitation  having  been  too  much  for  him),  and  offered 
to  clear  him  and  his  name  for  a  certain  price  which,  in 
plain  terms,  he  specified. " 

"  Averil's  hand  !   I  knew  it,"  Dallas  gasped,  huskily. 

'^ Miss  Rafs  hand,"  corrected  Philip,  a  haughty  flash 
in  his  eyes.  "Yes,  he  asked  for  that;  and  it  was  denied 
him.  He  persisted.  She  told  him  with  her  own  lips  that 
the  only  feelings  she  had  for  him  were  the  most  entire 
contempt  and  distrust.  Still  he  persisted ;  and — well,  sir, 
the  father  was  sick  and  suftering.  He  had  always  liked 
this  Milbank,  a  handsome,  plausible  fellow,  and  he  prayed 
and  urged  his  daughter  to  consent  and  save  him.  His 
wife,  a  proud,  delicate  woman,  dreading  scandal  and 
.shame  more  than  death,  and  the  idol  of  her  daughter's 
heart,  pleaded  with  Averil  to  the  same  tune,  until — well, 
you  can  guess  the  end — she  was  dri^'en  desperate  and 
yielded.  Mr.  Ray's  name  appeared  among  the  innocent 
sufferers  instead  of  the  guilty  promoters  of  the  bubble; 
and  Averil  was  married  to  Milbank  in  the  following  week. 
The  old  people  lost  most  of  their  money  in  the  crash, 
sold  their  house  in  Montreal,  and  migrated  to  a  cottage 
in  the  suburbs,  where,  within  only  two  months  of  the  down- 
fall of  the  swindle,  Mr.  Ray  died.  Averil's  sacrifice  had 
saved  her  father's  reputation  :  Averil's  sacrifice  had  not 
saved  her  father's  life.  There  is  little  need  to  go  into 
what  followed.  Miss  Ray  had  told  this  Milbank  what 
were  her  feelings  towards  him.  She  repeated  them  before 
going  to  the  altar;  and  she  never  changed  them.  He 
disbelieved  her  at  first ;  then  he  swore  to  break  her  pride 
and  punish  her  ;  and  he  married  her  for  that  purpose. 
They  lived  together  for  one  year,  during  which  (remem- 
ber, I  have  all  this  from  his  own  lips)  he  lavished  on  her 
every  insult  and  injury,  down  to  curses,  blows,  and  worse 
indignities  still.  And  she  bore  all  uncomplainingly,  doing 
her  duty  with  the  silent  patience  of  a  martyr,  and  dis- 
daining her  tyrant  too  much  even  to  reproach  him.     Fi- 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE W.  359 

nally,  having  spent  all  their  money,  got  into  debt,  and 
being  on  the  eve  of  arrest  for  some  piece  of  roguery  too 
sharp  for  the  law  to  overlook,  he  deserted  her  without  even 
an  adieu.  An  execution  was  put  into  their  house  almost 
immediately  afterwards,  the  furniture  was  sold,  and  she 
was  left  penniless  and  alone  in  the  world." 

Something  like  a  curse  broke  from  Dallas  M'Kenzie's 
lips,  and  his  right  hand  clenched  convulsively  ;  but  I'hilij) 
went  on : 

"In  this  strait  Averil  did  what  I  suppose  most  young 
women  so  situated  would  have  done — went  home  to  her 
mother,  and  lived  with  her  for  eighteen  months  in  such 
peace  as  health  injured  by  all  she  had  gone  through,  and 
a  continual  dread  of  her  husband's  reappearance,  would 
I)ermit.  At  the  end  of  that  time,  however,  this  dread 
was  laid  to  rest,  and  the  shadow  which  hung  over  their 
lives  lifted  forever.  They  received  news  of  Mr.  Milbank's 
death." 

"  His  death  J  "  cried  M'Kenzie.  "  He  was  dead  then, 
and  she  is  »iy —  But  you  said  you  had  this  from  his  own 
lips  !     For  Heaven's  sake,  go  on." 

His  face  was  ashy  pale,  and  his  hands  quivering  with 
agitation.  Bernard  looked  at  Kate,  for  as  the  words 
broke  from  her  lover's  lips  he  saw  a  quick,  long  shiver 
run  from  head  to  heel  through  her  entire  frame. 

"  He  was  not  dead,  and  I  had  this  from  his  own  lips," 
said  Philip,  with  a  scornful  smile,  broken  by  his  oft-recur- 
ring cough;  "but  he  and  a  friend  of  his  had  got  involved 
in  some  disgraceful  affair  which,  if  discovered,  would  have 
transported  him  for  life.  The  only  chance  of  his  escap- 
ing was  that  he  should  die  before  the  news  got  wind  at 
headquarters,  and  he  did  die  accordingly,  and  in  a  most 
skillful  manner.  Averil  first  received  a  penciled  scrawl 
from  himself,  saying  that  he  was  dying,  and  a  few  days 
afterwards  a  letter  from  the  doctor  who  had  attended  him 
(his  friend)  telling  her  of  his  decease,  and  enclosing  a  cer- 
tificate of  the  same.  He  further  stated  that  Milbank  had 
desired  his  few  efl'ects  should  be  sent  to  his  wife,  and  ac- 
cordingly these  convincing  proofs  of  his  decease  were  duly 
forwarded  to  her — a  half-worn  suit  of  clothes  and  some 


360 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE W. 


linen  marked  by  herself;  a  copy  of  Walt  Whitman's 
poems,  stained  with  tobacco-juice,  and  with  his  name  in- 
side; a  pipe  which  had  been  often  puffed  in  her  face,  and 
a  note-book  with  a  draft  on  a  Montreal  bank  for  twenty 
dollars  in  it.  Perhaps  this  last  item  was  the  most  conclusive 
evidence  of  any  (had  any  more  been  needed),  Japhet  Mil- 
bank  never  having  been  known  to  let  a  penny  out  of  his 
clutches  that  he  could  hold  on  to,  and  the  scoundrel  was 
well  aware  of  it.  That  draft  sealed  a  lie  which  ruined  his 
wife's  life. 

"  Her  future  Avas  determined  on  the  same  day  which 
saw  the  announcement  of  Milbank's  death  in  the  Mon- 
treal papers.  She  and  her  mother  gave  up  their  cottage, 
dismissed  the  servants  (all  but  the  French  maid,  who  had 
been  with  them  ever  since  Mrs.  Ray's  marriage),  and 
traveled  north  to  S.  Louis-sur-Eaux,  where  she  resumed 
her  maiden  name  and  old  life.  They  were  very  poor,  as 
you  know,  but  to  Averil  any  poverty,  so  her  mother  could 
have  been  shielded  from  suffering  from  it,  would  have  been 
bliss  after  all  she  had  gone  through;  and  Mrs.  Ray  had 
only  one  wish  left — never  to  hear  the  name  or  be  re- 
minded of  the  man  to  whom  she  had  sacrificed  her  child's 
life.  It  was  the  one  slur  on  her  own  for  which  she  could 
never  forgive  herself;  and  Averil's  own  horror  of  the  past 
urged  her  to  blot  out  the  very  memory  of  it  to  the  utmost. 
Her  marriage  was  never  so  much  as  suspected  among  the 
people  where  they  had  settled.  It  was  a  thing  unspoken 
of,  and  ignored  even  between  themselves. 

'•Thus  they  lived  three  years — three  peaceful,  quiet 
years — making  few  acquaintances,  mixing  in  no  society, 
all  in  all  to  each  other,  and  never  suspecting  that  they 
held  a  traitor  in  their  midst — a  traitor  who,  but  for  you, 
might  never  have  lifted  her  head  to  sting.  This  person 
was  a  quadroon  woman — you  remember  her,  I  see — who 
came  to  S.  Louis-sur-Eaux  shortly  after  themselves,  sought 
help  and  employment  from  them,  and  was  taken  into  their 
service  as  general- servant ;  and  she  not  only  knew  of 
Japhet  Milbank's  existence  and  whereabouts,  but  was 
paid  by  him  to  keep  him  acquainted  with  every  detail  of 
his   wife's   life.     This   woman,  who   ibr  three   years   had 


i 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 


361 


nothing  but  a  journal  of  absolute  retirement,  of  matronly 
reserve,  and  unfailing  kindness  to  herself  to  record,  was 
the  person  who  informed  him  of  your  arrival  in  the  place 
within  a  week  of  its  occurrence;  and  from  that  time, 
through  your  rapidly-increasing  friendship  and  the  moth- 
er's illness  and  death,  to  your  subsequent  engagement, 
was  in  constant  and  regular  communication  with  her  em- 
ployer. 

"  Yes,  I  am  a  clergyman,"  said  Philip,  with  a  blaze  of 
indignation  in  his  eyes  and  voice;  "but  I  can  hardly 
curb  my  tongue,  now,  to  speak  of  the  devilish  malice 
which  could  play  with  its  innocent  victim  as  a  cat  with  a 
mouse,  and  only  deal  its  death-blow  when  the  pure  and 
generous  love,  which  had  never  for  one  moment  been  his, 
hatl  not  only  been  bestowed  on  another,  but  consecrated 
to  the  latter  by  the  blessing  of  the  Church.  With  his  dy- 
ing lips  the  wretch  told  me: 

'"She  always  hated  me,  and  looked  down  on  me,  and 
I  was  determined  to  bring  her  where  others  should  hate 
and  look  down  on  her.  The  plot  was  carefully  laid  and 
easily  carried  out — almost  too  easily,  for  the  blind  fool  she 
loved  knew  so  little  of  her  as  to  be  convinced  of  her  base- 
ness at  the  first  sight  of  my  letter,  and  never  from  begin- 
ing  to  end  suspected  that  she  was  more  deceived  than 
himself.'  Yes,  Mr.  M'Kenzie,  you  were  a  useful  tool  in 
humbling — " 

"Spare  me!"  broke  from  M'Kenzie,  with  a  terrible  cry 
— a  cry  of  such  sorrow  and  remorse  as  thrilled  all  present. 
"And  she  was  innocent?  She  was  deceived  too?  Oh, 
my  Averil — my  poor  injured  love!" 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 


LEFT  TO   HERSELF. 


T  must  see  Averil." 

X  Those  had  been  M'Kenzie's  last  words  as  the 
painful  scene  came  to  an  end ;  and  they  came  from  him 
in  the  desperate  tone  of  one  who  would  brook  no  denial. 

Even  his  betrothed  was  forgotten,  and  he  was  gone  as 
he  spoke,  glancing  at  his  watch,  and  muttering  something 
about  catching  the  train,  as  he  sped  through  the  garden 
by  the  shortest  route. 

When  Kate  left  the  summer-house,  it  was  with  the 
stunned  and  dizzy  feeling  of  one  who  has  just  received  a 
blow  on  the  head,  heavy  enough  to  crush  out  all  con- 
sciousness but  pain,  but  not  heavy  enough  even  to  dull 
that.  She  did  not  hear  Clive's  hurried  whisper  to  her 
lover — a  whisper  which  implored  him  to  remember  her 
presence  and  his  own  obligations  to  her — it  was  purposely 
too  low  for  that;  and  yet  the  sense  that  she  had  been  al- 
lowed to  go  out  from  the  midst  of  them  unheeded  and 
unthought  of  added  a  fresh  pang  to  the  poignancy  of  the 
sorrow  she  was  enduring,  a  fresh  proof  to  the  fact  she 
already  felt  in  her  inmost  being — that  her  share  in  the 
drama  was  over,  her  part  in  the  play  played  out.  The 
fifth  act,  where  all  had  to  be  made  right,  had  no  place  in 
the  cast  for  her.  She  might  take  her  seat  among  the  au- 
dience and  look  on,  if  she  would ;  but  no  more :  nothing 
else  any  more. 

So  she  went  slowly  on  through  the  garden  walks,  al- 
most stumbling  now  and  then  against  the  shrubs  in  her 
.^62 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 


2>^Z 


semi-Stupefied  absorbment,  when  a  hand  gently  touched 
her  arm,  and  a  voice — Clive's,  but  wonderfully  gentle, 
too — said  : 

"Won't  you  go  in  by  the  conservatory,  Miss  Bellew  ? 
Gore  and  his  brother-in-law  are  smoking  to  any  extent  on 
the  terrace,  and  I  know  you  can't  bear  tobacco." 

He  spoke  in  a  low,  rapid  tone,  stepping  forward  after  a 
moment's  silence  to  open  the  conservatory  door  for  her. 
Kate  had  not  answered,  or  seemed  to  hear,  and  he 
thought  she  was  going  to  pass  him  without  speaking,  and 
was  doubtful  as  to  whether  he  had  offended  her,  or  only 
hurt  her  more;  but  on  the  threshold  she  paused,  lifting 
a  litde  face  as  white  as  a  snowflake,  and  with  no  light  or 
radiance  in  the  dark  eyes  to  him,  as  she  said  very  simply 
and  quietly : 

"Thank  you.  You  mean  to  be  kind,  I  know.  Thank 
you,  but  don't  let  him  come  now.     I — I  can't  talk  yet." 

And  then  she  was  gone — disappeared  among  the 
scented  shrubs  and  crimson  tropical  blossoms  which  made 
a  southern  summer  of  one  corner  of  the  house;  and  Clive 
returned  to  the  others  with  a  vision  of  a  pale  shadowy 
face  thrown  up  against  a  background  of  green  flickering 
leaves  in  his  mind,  with  the  touch  of  a  cold  litde  hand  in 
his,  and  a  heart  aching  almost  too  much  for  indignation. 

Kate  did  not  lie  down,  or  try  to  sleep,  nor  did  any 
tears  come  to  relieve  her.  She  sat  in  her  room,  with  her 
hands  lying  limp  and  white  on  the  lap  of  her  dark  dress, 
and  the  shawl  falling  from  her  shoulders  in  two  straight 
lines  to  the  ground.  The  mellow  afternoon  light  red- 
dened into  a  glorious  sunset,  all  crimsons  and  violets  and 
pale,  pure  greens,  dashed  and  streaked  with  long  lines  of 
golden  fire,  which  were  reflected  in  the  river's  breast,  and 
cast  strange  flickering  lights  on  Kate's  colorless  face; 
and  then  that  too  faded  in  sober  twilight  gray ;  a  cold 
breeze  sprang  up  from  the  river,  sighing  dirge-like  among 
the  yellow  foliage  on  the  trees,  and  blowing  over  the 
slight  young  figure  which  sat  there  before  the  open  win- 
dow, still  and  motionless,  with  only  one  feeling  in  her 
stunned  brain,  the  first  which  always  comes  to  a  young 
creature  in  the  newness  of  a  great  grief,  and  says  to  the 


364  ^''^^  TTY  MISS  BELLE  W. 

soul,  like  the  tolling  of  a  passing  bell,  "All  is  over  for 
you  !  all  is  over  for  you  for  evermore ! " 

And  Dallas  never  came  the  whole  evening.  No  com- 
ment was  made  upon  his  absence  by  any  one,  but  Mrs. 
Gore  sent  Kate  to  bed  early. 

He  came  next  day.  Bravely  as  Kate  had  endeavored 
to  keep  up,  going  to  church  in  the  morning  had  been  too 
much  for  her ;  and  her  hosts  had  forbidden  her  attempt- 
ing it  in  the  afternoon,  and  insisted  that  she  should  lie 
down  in  the  library  and  nurse  her  headache,  which  by 
this  time  was  so  ragingly  bad  that  she  could  hardly  force 
a  smile  in  answer  to  their  kindness.  And  so  it  happened 
that  about  three  o'clock,  when  Mr.  Gore  and  his  brother 
were  gone  for  a  walk,  and  Mrs.  Gore,  Dottie,  and  little 
Jack  were  being  dressed  for  afternoon  service,  Kate  was 
quite  alone  when  there  came  a  ring  at  the  front  door, 
and  almost  immediately  afterwards  the  footman  an- 
nounced : 

"Mr.  M'Kenzie." 

Kate  had  been  expecting  him  from  moment  to  mo- 
ment all  day.  She  knew  he  must  come,  sooner  or  later, 
and  she  was  not  lying  down,  or  trying  to  rest,  but  simply 
waiting  for  him — waiting,  and  nothing  else.  Her  back 
was  to  the  light,  so  that  he  could  not  see  the  change  in 
her  face,  and  her  elbow  rested  on  a  little  table,  on  which 
a  volume  of  George  Herbert  was  lying  open ;  but  she 
was  not  making  even  a  pretense  of  reading  it,  though 
every  now  and  then  one  line,  which  formed  the  refrain 
all  down  the  page,  caught  her  eye,  and  smote  with  a  dull 
reproachful  pain  on  her  heart : 

"  Was  ever  grief  like  mine  ?  " 

Dallas  came  into  the  room  slowly,  and  with  a  hesita- 
tion which  was  evidently  increased  by  finding  Kate 
alone.  He  was  very  pale,  and  there  were  signs  of  strong 
agitation  and  disturbance  in  his  face,  though  he  came  in 
smiling,  and  saying  that  he  hoped  his  hosts  had  not  been 
ofifended  by  his  sudden  departure  on  the  day  before. 
There  was  something  he  was  obliged  to  do,  and  it  had 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE W.  365 

not  got  done  in  time  for  him  to  return  to  Fulham  the 
same  night,  or — 

"But  I  hope  they  will  excuse  me,"  he  added,  with 
(the  same  constrained  smile.  "  I  needn't  ask  you  to  do 
so,  Katie.  Your  kind  little  heart  is  too  sympathetic 
to  believe  I  could  be  intentionally  rude  or  unkind  to 
you.  You  were  not  angry  with  me  for  going  away, 
were  you  ?  " 

He  had  got  over  it  very  well,  and  seemed  disposed 
to  let  the  matter  rest  there ;  but  as  he  stooped  to  kiss 
his  betrothed,  she  drew  back  her  head  quickly,  and  then, 
as  if  to  atone  for  the  repulse,  put  her  hand  in  his  and 
said  gently : 

"  Oh,  no !  I  knew  you  must  have  a  great  deal  to 
think  of;  and,  indeed,  I  had  too.  But — I  am  glad  you 
have  come  now,  Dallas,  for  you — " 

"Of  course  I  have  come,"  he  put  in,  huskily.  "I 
would  have  come  earlier  if  I  could.  Did  you  think  I 
should  break  my  engagement  ?  " 

There  was  a  double  meaning  in  the  question,  and  Kate 
understood  and  accepted  it.  The  color  rose  a  little  in  her 
pale  face,  and  her  lip  quivered,  but  those  twenty-four 
hours  of  waiting  had  schooled  her  to  calm  and  self-re- 
straint, and  she  answered,  gravely  : 

"No,  Dallas,  I  knew  you  would  not;  but  I  am  going 
away  from  here  early  to-morrow.  1  have  written  to 
mamma  already,  to  tell  her  so,  and  I  thought  that  what 
we  hatl  to  say  to  each  other  w-as  best  said  and  finished 
here,  before  we  part." 

"  Finished  !  "  repeated  M'Kenzie,  the  blood  rushing  into 
his  dark  face.  "  I  don't  understand  you,  Kate.  /  have 
nothing  to  say  except  that  I  am  very  sorry  you  would  be 
present  during  young  Clive's  visit  yesterday,  and  that, 
of  course,  what  you  heard  makes  no  difference  to  us." 

"Yes,  I  thought  you  would  say  that,"  said  Kate,  softly, 
"but  it  does  make  a  difference — a  great  difference,  Dallas, 
for  yesterday  you  and  I  were  engaged  to  each  other,  and 
now  we  are  only  friends,  friends  as  we  w'ere  at  Combe 
Regis — nothing  more." 

"  Do  you  mean   that  you   give   me    up  ?     Nonsense, 


366 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 


Katie,  we  have  had  all  that  out  before.  Don't  begin  it 
over  again.  I  asked  you  to  marry  me,  and  I  abide  by  it. 
Do  you  think  I  shall  make  you  a  worse  husband  because 
her  name  is  purified  ?  Try  me,  that's  all !  And  under- 
stand, I  know  perfectly  well  that  you  love  me,  and  I  will 
not  let  you  put  me  away." 

"You  will  have  to  do  so,"  said  Kate,  sadly,  and  shrink- 
ing from  the  arm  which  would  have  drawn  her  closer. 
Her  very  heart  seemed  breaking,  and  there  were  lines  of 
pain  round  her  eyes,  but  she  spoke  with  a  resoluteness 
quite  new  to  him.  "You  are  true  and  generous,  Dallas, 
and  I  am  glad,  so  glad  of  it;  but — you  cannot  marry  me 
unless  I  consent,  and  I  will  not." 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

"RING   OUT   THE    OLD:    RING    IN   THE    NEW." 

TV' ATE,  there's  a  letter  for  you.  Make  haste! — 
j\_  Mamma  is  longing  for  you  to  open  it.  It's  from 
Dick." 

"  Kate,  have  you  got  me  the  book  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Kittie  !  do  come  and  hear  me  practice.  Tom  says, 
if  I'm  ready  by  five,  he'll  take  me  out  when  he  comes  in 
from  the  office." 

"  Dottie  has  lost  her  spelling-book,  Kate,  so  I  couldn't 
teach  her  for  you.  I  really  think  you  ought  to  punish 
her — careless  little  monkey  !  " 

It  was  a  bright  sunny  afternoon  in  May,  and  Kate 
stood  in  the  drawing-room  doorway  of  a  comfortable, 
medium-sized  house  north  of  the  Regent's  Park.  It 
looked  out  in  front  on  the  green  slope  of  Primrose  Hill, 
with  a  view  of  park  palings  and  tall  trees  if  you  stood 
in  an  angle  of  the  window ;  and  only  sufficient  glimpses 
of  houses  and  chimney-pots  to  give  it  life;  as  bright  and 
cheerful  a  prospect  as  could  well  be  found  in  (unfashion- 
able) London  ;  and  though  the  room  within  was  rather 
small  for  the  large  family  inhabiting  it,  and  by  no  means 
overtidy,  it  looked  both  bright  and  cheerful  too  ;  the  old 
furniture  from  (iresham  Square  giving  it  an  air  of  comfort 
and  dignity  which  more  than  made  amends  for  the  latter 
being  too  large  for  its  present  quarters,  and  somewhat  more 
faded  and  shabby  than  when  we  first  made  its  acquaint- 
ance. Folding-doors  opened  into  a  smaller  and  more  un- 
tidy apartment,  yclept  the  schoolroom^  at  the  back ;  and  out 

2Z  367 


368  FRETTY  MISS  BELLE W. 

of  this  Madge  and  Dottie  had  rushed,  at  the  sound  of 
Kate's  entrance,  to  join  their  voices  to  that  of  Evq,  who 
was  lying  on  the  sofa  in  the  sunniest  corner  of  the  room, 
with  a  shawl  round  her  shoulders,  and  an  expression  of 
weariness  and  petulance  settled  like  a  wax  mask  over  her 
colorless  features. 

Not  kindly  did  Eve  take  to  the  reverse  of  fortunes 
which  Dick's  marriage  with  Fanny,  (for,  after  having  been 
bought  off  at  great  expense.  Master  Richard  had  outwit- 
ted his  mother  by  marrying  Fanny  privately,  and  keeping 
the  fact  a  secret  until  the  prospects  of  a  family  had 
obliged  him  to  tell  Kate,  and  through  her  throw  himself 
on  his  mother's  generosity),  and  a  fall  in  certain  stocks  in 
which  part  of  Lady  Margaret's  money  was  invested,  had 
entailed  on  the  family  of  the  Bellews.  That  it  should  have 
occurred  just  now,  when  she  was  growing  up,  and  hoping 
soon  to  "come  out,"  and  be  introduced  as  her  sister  had 
been,  was  an  additional  injury  to  her;  and  her  ricketty 
health  and  uncertain  spirits  increased  the  bitterness  of  the 
misfortune.  The  move  from  Gresham  Square  to  a  house 
just  half  the  rental  had  been  celebrated  by  her  with 
floods  of  tears,  ending  in  a  silent  gloom,  which  lasted  for 
weeks;  and  the  determination  of  Lady  Margaret  to  con- 
tinue Dick's  full  allowance  until  he  was  able  to  support 
himself,  his  wife  and  twin  babies,  had  caused  the  young 
lady  such  virtuous  anger  that  she  actually  wrote  off  to 
Lord  Lovegoats,  disclaiming  any  encouragement  on  her 
part  of  her  brother's  misdeeds,  and  begging  not  to  be 
counted  among  the  refractory  ones  of  the  family.  Lord 
Lovegoats  answered  the  epistle,  and  the  mode  in  which 
he  did  so  crushed  Eve  for  some  time : 

"1  have  received  an  imjoertinent  letter  from  a  girl  who, 
while  abusing  her  brother,  proves  herself  to  be  as  like 
him  as  possible,  by  her  disrespect  for  her  mother,  and  the 
meanness  of  trying  to  feather  her  own  nest  at  her  family's 
expense.  Let  me  assiure  her  that,  so  far  as  I  am  con- 
cerned, her  attempt  is  useless,  and  that  I  trust  it  may  not 
be  repeated.  Lovegoats." 

This  note  was  enclosed  to  Lady  Margaret ;  and  it  says 
much  for  motherly  and  sisterly  love,  that  she  and  Kate 


PRETTY  M/SS  BELLE W. 


369 


kept  the  secret  of  it  to  themselves,  and  forebore  to  utter 
any  reproaches  when  hanchng  it  to  the  conscience- 
stricken  httle  intriguer ;  but  to  admit  her  to  the  same 
confidence  as  the  others  was  impossible :  and  Eve's  un- 
happiness  was  increased  by  the  feeling  that  she  was  re- 
garded as  a  privileged  outsider  in  her  own  family,  and 
her  wants  more  scrupulously  gratified,  her  coldness  and 
exactions  more  indulged,  because  she  was  not,  as  it  were, 
one  with  the  rest  of  the  home  party. 

Three  days  after  the  upset  of  Eve's  \\t\.\Q.Jiasco,  they 
read  an  announcement  in  the  Iwies^  that  a  marriage 
would  shortly  take  place  in  high  life,  between  Lord  Love- 
goats  and  Miss  Clarissa  Georgina  Montpellier,  youngest 
daughter  of  Captain  Montpellier,  R.  N.  Nobody  had 
ever  heard  of  the  young  lady  before;  but  the  news  was 
speedily  verified  by  a  second  announcement,  of  the  mar- 
riage itself.  Society  lifted  up  its  hands,  and  wagged  more 
than  a  nine  days'  tongue  of  wonder,  at  this  union  be- 
tween the  worn-out  old  fouc  of  seventy-two  with  a  fresh 
young  girl  of  sixteen ;  and  poor  Lady  Margaret  nearly 
broke  down  altogether  at  this  final  destruction  of  all  hopes 
for  her  children's  future.  She  would  have  quite  done  so 
but  for  Kate — Kate,  who  never  flagged  or  gave  in  for  one 
moment.  Her  resolution  once  taken,  had  been  kept  both 
to  the  spirit  and  the  letter.  Although  the  one  who  had 
hitherto  been  the  recipient  of  most  of  her  uncle's  gifts 
and  patronage,  she  made  lighter  of  their  withdrawal  than 
any  of  the  rest;  professed  to  enjoy  walking  more  than 
riding ;  declared  that,  if  they  had  been  rolling  in  wealth, 
she  would  not  have  cared  to  go  to  the  opera  or  balls  in 
the  year  following  her  unhapjiy  engagement;  voluntarily 
gave  up  Madame  Clarice  for  a  cheaper  and  less  fashion- 
able dressmaker ;  enlisted  Bernard  Clive  in  her  service, 
and,  with  his  aid,  took  all  the  trouble  of  the  house-hunt- 
ing and  moving  oft"  her  mother's  shoulders ;  and  herself 
insisted  that  she  should  take  Miss  Smith's  place  in  the  ed- 
ucation of  Madge  and  Dottie,  so  that  George  might  be 
sent  at  once  to  a  good  school,  and  Eve  not  deprived  of 
her  Italian  and  singing  masters.  It  was  a  brave  under- 
taking, this  la.st,  for  Madge  was  nearly  fifteen  now,  a 
2a. 


370  PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 

strong,  active,  high-spirited  girl,  hating  study,  and  re- 
quiring a  good  deal  of  labor  and  patience  from  her  in- 
structress; but  Kate  gave  both  with  such  hearty  good 
will,  that  Madge  fell  too  much  in  love  with  her  to  be 
willfully  idle,  more  especially  when  she  knew  that  the 
punishment  of  misconduct  really  fell  on  her  elder  sister's 
already  overburdened  shoulders. 

Lady  Margaret,  while  forgiving  Dick  and  reducing  her 
own  income  for  his  benefit,  had  refused  to  receive  or  see 
his  wife.  She  '■'■could  not  countenance  that  atrocious 
girl,"  she  said;  and  Dick  would  not  come  where  Fanny 
might  not;  so  Kate  was  made  the  medium  of  all  com- 
munication between  them,  and  was  the  peacemaker  who 
persuaded  her  brother  that  it  was  only  just  and  natural 
that  their  mother  should  feel  indignant  at  the  way  in 
which  she  had  been  treated  with  regard  to  his  marriage; 
and  coaxed  Lady  Margaret  into  owning  that  it  was  better 
the  young  man  should  not  be  tempted  to  leave  his  work 
(for  he  had  passed  his  examination,  and  received  a  small 
provisional  appointment  in  Ireland)  for  home  visits  and 
London  distractions ;  but  grow  used  to  domestic  duties 
and  the  responsibilities  he  had  taken  on  himself  The 
birth  of  the  twins  and  the  family  misfortunes  did  seem  to 
have  sobered  him  so  far ;  and  Clive,  who  had  run  over  to 
Cork  to  see  him  in  the  Easter  Holidays,  reported  that 
Fanny  was  really  a  miracle  of  economy  and  management ; 
that  she  spoke  warmly  of  her  husband's  kindness  and  af- 
fection;  and  that  the  latter  had  a  stronger  and  more 
manly  air  than  Clive  had  ever  before  seen  in  him.  Fm 
afraid  I  must  confess  that  Lady  Margaret  fairly  kissed 
her  friend  when  he  brought  her  this  news;  for,  after  all, 
the  first-born  was  her  idol ;  and  both  she  and  Kate 
strongly  suspected  that  the  barrister's  "Irish  holiday  ex- 
cursion" had  been  taken  wholly  and  solely  to  relieve  the 
anxiety  which  was  hanging  only  too  palpably  over  the 
harassed  mother. 

He  had  taken  Tom  into  his  office  for  the  present ;  for 
the  latter,  a  spirited  lad,  very  like  Kate  in  face  and  dispo- 
sition, had  at  once  given  up  the  pros]3ect  of  the  Church 
on  account  of  the  expenses  his  college  life  would  be  to  the 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 


371 


family.  He  would  rather  be  a  clergyman  than  anything, 
he  said ;  but  he  couldn't  be  that  without  going  to  college ; 
and  he  would  rather  take  a  City  clerkship  than  live  idly  on 
his  mother  for  a  single  week.  Poor  Lady  Margaret ! 
The  very  sound  of  "City  clerkship"  for  one  of  her  sons 
made  her  weep  and  shiver;  but  Clive  liked  the  boy's 
tone,  and  persuaded  him  to  come  into  his  office  for  a 
time,  till  something  permanent  could  be  found  for  him. 

A  turmoil  of  voices  in  the  next  room,  and  the  folding- 
doors  were  flung  open.  Eve  turned  her  head  sharply, 
and  was  about  to  commence  an  irritated  reproof,  when 
she  saw  that  Kate  was  among  the  culprits,  and  was  ad- 
vancing, waving  a  letter. 

"  Hurra,  Evey  !     He's  got  it.     Oh  !  aren't  you  glad  ?" 

"Who  is  'he'?  and  'got'  what?  I  thought  you  had 
brought  me  my  port  wine.  You  have  the  keys  of  the 
sideboard,  I  think,  Kate,  or  I  would  not  trouble  you." 

Eve's  "gladness"  was  of  a  chilling  order,  and  Madge 
doubled  a  jjantomimic  fist  and  executed  a  sort  of  wrath- 
ful prance  behind  Kate's  shoulder. 

"  Don't  be  over-anxious  for  your  creature  comforts. 
ma'am,"  the  latter  answered,  shaking  off,  with  a  good-hu- 
mored laugh,  her  first  impulse  of  vexation.  "  Your  wine 
is  there,  poured  out  and  all,  in  the  schoolroom,  so  please 
take  it  and  drink  Dick's  health  ;  for  he  has  got  the  ap- 
pointment he  has  been  trying  for — at  least  he  has  got  the 
promise  of  it." 

"Oh!  promise.'"  said  Eve,  witheringly. 

"It  will  be  vacant  in  six  months  from  now,"  pursued 
Kate,  unheeding;  "and  it's  four  hundred  a-year!" 

"Then  he  won't  go  on  taking  two  hundred  and  fifty  of 
ours,  I  sui)pose  ?     That  is  a  comfort  at  least." 

"  My  dear  child,  you  are  unreasonable,  and  forget  that 
Dick  is  one  of  us,  and  as  much  entitled  to  a  share  of 
what  we  have  as  the  rest.  Papa  left  everything  to  mamjiia 
for  her  life,  and  then  to  be  divided  amongst  us  :  two 
thousand  pounds  to  each  of  us  younger  children  and  the 
remainder. to  Dick.  He  has  written  himself  oftering  to 
give  up  one  hundred  a  year  as  soon  as  he  is  settled  at  the 
Cape.  I  think  it  is  sweet  of  him,  sweet  and  good !  And 
it  is  to  go  to  'I'oin.     Donr  old  patient  Tom  !  T  am  so  glad." 


372 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEIV. 


"I  really  don't  see  the  necessity  of  being  glad  at  the 
boys  getting  everything — roefy thing /  "  said  Eve,  petu- 
lantly ;  "or  why  we  should  live  in  this  vulgar,  out-of-the- 
way  place,  and  never  go  anywhere,  that  they  may  have 
plenty  of  money  to  spend.  I  believe  mamma  thinks  of 
nothing  and  no  one  but  Dick,  while  we  who  have  behaved 
properly  all  our  lives — " 

There  was  no  use  in  arguing  with  Eve,  and  Kate  car- 
ried off  the  other  girls  to  their  studies  in  the  schoolroom, 
while  up  stairs  Lady  Margaret  was  weeping  over  the 
projected  exile  of  her  first-born,  and  of  the  twin  grand- 
children whom  she  had  never  yet  seen.  It  was  the  best 
thing  that  could  have  happened  to  Dick.  She  had  lost 
him,  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  more  than  a  year  ago, 
when  he  married  Fanny  Greypole ;  but  this  was  a  re- 
opening of  the  wound,  and  the  mother's  heart  bled  none 
the  less  freely  that  Dick  had  written  to  her  also — only  a 
note,  but  one  more  loving  and  contrite  than  she  had  ever 
had  from  him  before. 

Some  one  else  was  to  have  a  reopening  of  old  wounds 
belbre  night.  When  Tom  came  in  he  brought  Clive  with 
him.  They,  too,  had  heard  from  Dick,  and  were  in  such 
high  spirits  accordingly  that  the  clatter  of  tongues  and 
laughter  penetrated  to  the  mother's  room  upstairs,  and 
brought  a  smile  to  her  sympathetic  lips.  By-and-by, 
Kate  came  running  up  with  a  cup  of  tea,  and  a  look  of 
loving  inquiry  in  her  eyes  which  won  a  reassuring  kiss 
from  Lady  Margaret. 

"But  I  won't  go  down,"  she  said, in  answer  to  Kate's 
coaxing.  "I  don't  want  the  children  to  see  I  have  been 
fretting ;  and  I  shall  be  all  right  again  by  dinner.  Are 
you  not  going  out?" 

"Yes,"  said  Kate.  "Tom  had  promised  Madge  to  go 
for  a  run  in  the  Park  ;  and  Mr.  Clive  wants  me  to  go  too. 
He  says  the  may  is  out  everywhere,  and  the  perfume  too 
delicious  to  be  wasted.  But  I  would  rather  stay  if  I  can 
help  you  any  way,  manmiy  dear." 

"You  are  always  helping  me.  Go  out  and  enjoy  your- 
self with  the  rest." 

"Eve  won't  go.  I  asked  her;  but  she  has  a  head- 
ache." 


PRETTY  MLSS  BELl.EW. 


373 


"Poor  child  I  Sent!  her  up  to  mc.  I'm  afraid  1  some- 
times neglect  her,"  said  Lady  Margaret,  sighing.  "I 
shall  have  to  send  you  away  on  a  visit,  and  make  a  com- 
panion of  her  instead,  for  awhile ; "  and  Kate  ran  away, 
laughing  at  the  idea. 

It  was  an  exquisite  afternoon,  one  of  those  which, 
when  they  do  come  in  this  country,  seem  more  perfect 
than  anything  we  get  in  other  lands :  the  air  pure  and 
sweet  as  a  mother's  kiss,  the  sky  bluer  than  any  turquoise, 
the  grass  greener  than  any  emerald,  the  whole  atmos- 
phere filled  and  panting  with  the  fragrance  of  the  white 
and  rose-colored  may,  which  strewed  the  ground  with  a 
light  snow^  of  scented  blossoms  as  they  passed.  Madge, 
the  irrepressible,  broke  off  a  cluster  of  pink  horse-chestnut 
blossoms  as  she  dipped  under  the  boughs,  for  which  theft 
Tom  abused  her  roundly,  declaring  that  he  saw  a  police- 
man prowling  in  the  vicinity ;  and  making  off  from  her 
at  a  pace  which  obliged  her  to  run  after  him,  the  stolen 
flowers  twisted  audaciously  in  the  ribbon  of  her  brown 
hat. 

Clive  and  Kate  followed  more  soberly.  The  latter's 
gaiety  generally  died  out  of  her  face  as  soon  as  she 
left  the  hall  door;  but  to-day  it,  looked  more  thought- 
fully grave  than  usual;  and  Clive  noticed  it. 

"You  are  tired,"  he  said,  sharply.  "What  have  you 
been  doing  with  yourself?" 

"Nothing  in  particular;  and  I  am  not  tired,"  and  she 
looked  up  smilingly.     "I  was  only  thinking — " 

"  Does  thinking  make  you  look  sad  ?  You  seemed  so 
gay  a  moment  back." 

"Oh!  I  am  always  gay  at  home,"  said  Kate,  simply. 
"They  would  think  everything  was  going  wrong  if  I 
were  not ;  so  that  is  of  course;  but  one  must  have  serious 
things  to  think  of  sometimes:  and  you — we  are  such  old 
friends  now — yon  don't  want  me  to  be  always  laughing, 
do  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  want  you  ever  to  laugh  unless  you  feel  merry. 
I  should  like  that  to  be  always." 

"  And  yet  you  used  to  scold  me  for  not  being  graver  1 " 

"I  used  to  do  a  great  many  impertinent  things.  I 
hoped  you  had  forgotten  them." 


374  PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 

"  I  shouldn't  like  to  forget  anything  you  have  ever  done 
for  us;  but  I  don't  remember  the  impertinence." 

"  Hum  !  That  is  a  young  lady's  speech  to  be  received, 
if  not  believed.  Tell  me  (to  change  the  subject)  what 
serious  thing  you  were  thinking  of  when  you  looked  so 
sober  awhile  ago." 

"  I'm  afraid  you  would  think  me  impertinent  if  I  were 
to  tell  you." 

"You  are  not  afraid  of  any  such  thing.  Since  when 
did  you  begin  to  tell  fibs  ?  " 

"  Since  you  left  oft"  aggravating  me  into  the  truth  !  If 
you  will  have  it,  I  was  wondering  why  you  only  read  me 
a  bit  of  Dick's  letter  to  you  instead  of  giving  it  me  to 
read  as  you  usually  do.  There!"  and  Kate  blushed  up 
till  she  paled  the  rosy-tinted  may  at  the  confession.  Clive 
smiled  rather  peculiarly. 

"  Do  you  really  want  to  know  ?  Well,  it  was  simply 
because  he  spoke  of  you  in  it." 

"  Oime?  "  looking  up,  wonderingly.  "  Why,  what  about 
me?" 

"  Excuse  me  that — " 

"  Oh !  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  only  thought  that  per- 
haps there  was  something  I  could  do  for  him — poor  dear 
boy ! — and  that  he  did  not  like  to  ask  me  himself." 

"You  thought  right.     That  was  just  it." 

"And  won't  you  tell  me  what  it  is  ?" 

"  No,  it  would  be  no  use.  You  couldn't  do  it  under 
any  circumstances.  I  have  heard  you  say  so;  and  it 
would  only  pain  you  to  refuse." 

Kate  looked  troubled.  Poor  child !  she  had  had  so 
much  pain  of  late  that  she  had  grown  cowardly  of  in- 
voking more.  Clive  was  their  truest  friend.  He  knew 
all  tlieir  affairs.  If  she  could  not  do  this,  it  was  better,  as 
he  said,  not  to  tell  her  of  it. 

"You  know  best,"  she  answered,  gently.  "I  don't 
need  to  tell  you  what  I  would  do  for  him.  The  difficulty 
is  to  know  what  I  would  not  do.  But  I  was  troubled 
about  something  else — Eve." 

"Ah!"  said  Clive,  comprehendingly, 

"She  is  not  happy  ;  and  I  can't  make  her  so." 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 


375 


"  Nor  ever  will  unless  you  treat  her  properly." 

"  Mr.  Clive ! "  in  a  very  hurt  tone. 

"Yes,  Miss  Bellew,  unless  you  leave  off  waiting  on  and 
sparing  and  spoiling  her  as  if  she  were  a  visitor,  instead 
of  treating  her  as  you  treat  yourself  and  Madge,  as  one 
of  the  family  to  bear  her  burden  with  the  rest,  and  take 
her  share  of  the  knocks  and  hard  places." 

"  But  we  are  so  much  stronger,  and  don't  mind  it. 
You  forget  how  delicate  she  is.  As  things  are,  she  feels 
the  change  more  than  any  of  us." 

"She  would  feel  it  less  if  she  had  more  to  do  for  others, 
and  less  time  to  think  about  herself  You  are  ruining 
her  as  you  did  Uick,  withering  up  her  heart  and  faculties 
by  giving  them  nothing  but  herself  to  feed  on.  She  feels 
it  herself" 

"She  does  not  like  doing  things,"  pleaded  Kate, 
meekly. 

"  She  likes  still  less  feeling  that  everything  is  done  by 
yoii.  What  account  is  she  in  her  own  family  ?  None. 
Who  comes  to  her  for  help  and  sympathy  ?  No  one. 
And  whose  is  the  fault  ?  Yours,  who  slave  for  everybody 
and  are  loved  by  everybody.  Of  course  she  is  not  happy. 
Should  you  be  in  her  place?" 

"I — don't  know,"  said  Kate,  doubtfully.  "At  least  I 
think  I  do.  Mr.  Clive,  I  don't  like  you.  You  are  like  a 
dose  of  medicine,  very  wholesome  perhaps,  but  not  nice 
to  swallow.  In  this  case,  I  think  you  may  be  right,  but 
one  can't  make  a  change  now.  I  couldiCt  sit  idle  and 
make  her  work ;  and,  besides,  you  practice  the  very  op- 
posite of  your  own  preaching.  You  are  making  yourself 
a  perfect  tutor  to  Tom  at  present — giving  him  up  nearly 
all  your  evenings.  He  says  so  himself,  and  it  is  very 
good  of  you,  but  you  ought  not  to  do  it." 

"  My  dear  Miss  Bellew,  the  case  is  not  in  point.  My 
evenings  are  not  so  lively  and  sociable — except  when  I 
spend  them  with  your  family — that  I  find  a  companion 
for  them  disagreeable.  Be  quite  assured  that  if  I  didn't 
like  to  have  Tom  I  shouldn't  ask  him  to  come.  My 
classics  are  getting  rusty.     He  rubs  them  up." 

"  Oh,  of  course !    and  I  am  put  down  and  silenced," 


376 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 


laughed  Kate,  not  in  a  very  injured  tone.  "  I  am  quite 
used  to  that,  from  you;  but — " 

She  stopped  short;  and  he,  looking  at  her,  saw  the 
color  fade  all  at  once  and  utterly  out  of  her  face,  and  her 
lovely  eyes  widen  with  a  strange,  half  wistful,  half  pathetic 
expression.  They  had  come  into  one  of  the  more  public 
parts  of  the  Park,  and  were  just  about  to  cross  the  road. 
Tom  and  Madge  were  already  on  the  further  side;  but 
an  open  carriage  came  by  at  the  moment,  bowling  rapidly 
along,  and  the  other  two  drew  back.  There  were  two 
people  in  it — a  well-built,  middle-aged,  handsome  man, 
and  a  woman  fair  as  a  lily  and  beautiful  as  a  goddess. 
Her  face  was  turned  from  them  as  she  spoke  to  her  com- 
panion, and  he  looked  at  and  noticed  nothing  but  her. 
The  sunlight  laughed  and  flashed  on  the  golden  hair 
which  contrasted  so  wonderfully  with  her  violet  velvet 
and  costly  laces ;  on  the  loving  absorption  in  his  eyes ; 
on  the  magnificent  pair  of  chestnuts  which  were  bearing 
them  onward — laughed  and  flashed  for  one  moment,  and 
then — carriage  and  occupants  were  gone  in  the  distance, 
and  there  was  only  a  cloud  of  dust  where  they  had  passed, 
and  Kate  trudging  through  it  with  a  heightened  color  and 
very  sober  lips.  Clive's  face  had  altered  too,  and  his 
voice  was  hoarse  with  anger. 

"Abominable  behavior!  Driving  over  people  in  that 
headlong,  harum-scarum  manner!  Confound  it !  Good 
mind  to  write  to  the  Titnes." 

"  Only  they  didn't  drive  over  //i-,"  said  Kate,  sooth- 
ingly, though  her  voice  was  a  trifle  unsteady.  "We 
should  even  have  had  time  to  cross  if  we  had  liked." 

A  short,  contemptuous  grunt,  more  expressive  than 
words. 

"  Do  not ! "  she  said,  laying  her  hand  with  a  quick, 
womanly  impulse  on  his  arm.  "I  am  content.  Why 
should  not  others  be  ?  You  are  more  concerned  for  me 
than  I  am  for  myself" 

There  are  times  in  which  a  woman's  touch,  however 
light — a  woman's  voice,  however  sweet — are  too  much 
for  man's  endurance.  This  was  one  of  them.  He  turned 
on  her  as  sharply  as  if  he  had  been  struck. 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEIV. 


377 


"Very  likely.  I  love  you  better  than  anything  in  this 
world,  and  you — you  don't  even  think  of  yourself!" 

A  dead  silence.  The  sun  is  sinking  lower  and  lower,  a 
globe  of  fire  behind  the  farthest  fringe  of  trees  in  the  west. 
Two  long  black  shadows  stretch  and  creep  before  two 
people's  feet  over  the  gold-green  grass.  The  children  are 
laughing  in  the  distance.  The  perfume  of  the  mayflow- 
ers  fluctuates  in  little  puffs  ui)on  the  languid  breeze.  Then 
a  bell  rings  out  from  some  distant  church,  and  there  is  a 
black  whirr  of  rooks  from  the  copse  hard  by.  Kate's  eyes 
are  on  the  grass,  on  the  longest  shadow  in  her  path. 
The  crimson  glory  in  the  sky  is  reflected  on  her  cheeks. 

"  You — you  do  not  mean  that,"  she  says  at  last,  very 
low. 

"Don't  I?"  with  curt  indignation.  "Perhaps  not.  I 
thought  I  generally  meant  what  I  said." 

"  I — I  was  sure  you  had  got  over  it — forgotten  it  long 
ago." 

"You  thought  you  had  given  me  a  sufficiently  decided 
answer  to  make  me  do  so.  So  you  had.  Don't  make 
yourself  uneasy.  It's  the  child's  own  fault  if  he  will  go 
on  crying  for  the  moon  when  he  is  told  it's  out  of  his 
reach." 

Still  speaking  to  the  shadow,  Kate  says,  remonstrat- 
ingly  : 

"I  am  not  the  moon." 

"You  are  to  me.  Oh,  I  know  I  am  an  insane  fool  for 
speaking  to  you.  I  know  I  never  had  any  chance,  and 
meeting  that — that  felloto  to-day  has  only  reminded  me 
of  the  absurdity  of  ever  hoj)ing  or  trying  to — " 

He  breaks  ofi"  with  a  quiver  of  pain  in  his  voice. 
Kate's  eyes  fill  with  slow  great  drops,  which  make  the 
tall  shadow  swim  before  them. 

"  You — could  not  wish  to  marry  a  girl  who  was — was 
going  to  be  married  to  another  man  only  seven  months 
ago,"  she  says,  brokenly,  the  scarlet  deeper  in  her  down- 
cast face,  "it  would  not  be  right  for  you  or — " 

"  Kate,  for  pity's  sake  don't  talk  to  me  m  that  way !  It 
is  not  your  having  been  going  to  marry  him  seven 
months  or  seven  davs  ago.  It  is  that  you  love  him  now, 
and—" 


378  PRETTY  MISS  BELLE IV. 

"That  is  nut  true" — lifting  her  head  with  a  sudden 
flash  in  her  eyes.  "  I  did  once — dearly,  when  I  thought 
he  loved  me ;  but  now — how  can  you  think  it  ?  Have 
you  forgotten  that  he  is  married  ?  I  am  glad  that  it  is 
so,  glad  that  he  is  happy,  but  that  is  all." 

"Are  you  sure  ?  "  Clive  asks,  earnestly.  "  Kate,  stop 
one  moment  and  look  at  me.  Do  you  remember  that 
morning  on  the  beach  ?  " 

She  does  not  look  at  him.  She  looks  at  the  shadow 
again,  and  answers : 

"Yes." 

"You  told  me  that  even  if  he  had  not  existed,  you 
could  never  have  liked  me,  that  vou  would  rather  be  an 
old  maid  than  marry  me  or — " 

"I  did  not  know  you  then,"  Kates  breaks  in  hurriedly, 
and  with  woeful  shame  and  contrition.  "  Mr.  Clive,  doii't 
be  ungenerous  !  You  know  how  sorry  I  have  been — and 
when  you  have  been  so  good  to  me  ever  since — I  thought 
you  had  forgiven  !  " 

"  Do  you  mean,"  taking  her  two  hands  in  his,  and  al- 
most crushing  them  in  his  intense  earnestness,  "  that  if  I 
were  coming  to  you  now — he  being  put  aside  as  not  ex- 
isting— you — would  answer  me  differently?  " 

With  tearful  eyes,  disobediently  fixed  on  the  grass,  and 
pouting  lips.  Miss  Bellew  answers  in  a  sob : 

"I  am  not  as — as  ungrateful  as  a — hedgehog!  " 

"  I  know  you  are  not.  You  are  painfully — -frightfully 
grateful.  I  almost  believe  at  this  moment  that  you  would 
marry  me  from  gratitude;  and  I — I  tell  you  plainly — I 
would  not  accept  the  sacrifice.  I  am  content,  if  you  will 
have  it  so,  to  be  your  good  friend  and  a  bachelor  till 
death  ;  and  never  trouble  you  again,  by  word  or  look,  for 
what  you  can't  give  ;  but  I  wouldn't  marry  even  you,  un- 
less you  loved  me." 

I  Tom  and  Madge  are  becoming  audible  in  dispute  over 
a  wager.  Their  well-developed  voices  raised  to  some- 
thing above  concert  pitch,  drown  an  indistinct  mumble 
from  a  young  lady  whose  right  hand  (she  has  succeeded 
in  freeing  the  left)  is  gradually  getting  numb  and  crushed. 
Clive  only   catches    a    fragment — v.jinething  about    "  so 


PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 


379 


soon  ;  "  but  the  change  in  his  hard,  plain  face,  is  hke  the 
sunhght  of  God  upon  a  rugged  hill-side. 

"  Katie,  child,"  he  says,  his  voice  breaking  with  infinite 
tenderness,  "  do  you  mean  yuu  will — try?  " 

Two  tall,  lithe-Umbed  young  people  burst  through  the 
hawthorn  thicket,  and  career  to  them  with  loud-lunged 
vociferations,  as  to  who  was  the  stroke  of  the  L.  R.  C.'s 
boat  at  Henley  this  year.  Two  shadows,  which  have 
gradually  merged  into  one,  suddenly  separate  to  opposite 
sides  of  the  path.     Clive  answers  with  prompt  vivacity : 

"Benson,  of  Gray's  Inn,  of  course.     Who  else?" 

Kate  does  not  answer  at  all.  Perhaps  she  differs.  Her 
face  (what  can  be  seen  of  it,  at  least)  has  a  somewhat 
vague  expression. 

"Oh  dear!  I  was  certain  it  was  a  Mr.  Maitland," 
says  Madge,  crestfallen.  Madge  is  always  certain  she  is 
right,  and  always  certain  to  be  wrong;  but  Bernard  Clive 
is  a  law  from  which  even  she  seeks  no  appeal. 

"Why,  Katie,"  she  goes  on,  surveying  her  sister,  "how 
hot  and  tired  you  look  !  Hadn't  we  better  go  liome?  It 
must  be  past  si.x." 

"  Poor  old  girl,  she  does  look  done !  "  adds  Tom,  with  a 
paternal  pat  on  his  elder  sister's  shoulder.  "Been  on 
your  feet  all  day,  as  usual,  1  suppose,  Kittie.  Here,  lay 
hold  of  my  arm.     What's  the  good  of  a  brother  ?  " 

But  Clive  interposes — Clive,  who  is  looking  at  her 
anxiously,  and  making  an  inward  resolve  that  his  wife,  if 
he  ever  has  one,  shall  not  stand  on  her  feet  all  day,  while 
his  can  save  her. 

"  Won't  you  take  my  arm,  Katie  ?  "  he  says,  very  quietly, 
"I  think  it  will  help  you  better  at  present;"  and  Katie 
understands,  and  turning,  lays  her  pretty  fingers  on  the 
strong  support  offered.  It  is  the  lightest  pressure  possible ; 
and  yet,  oh !  my  friends,  you  who  have  been  young  once, 
and  have  loved  and  been  loved,  can  you  guess  how  keen 
and  warm  a  thrill  it  sends  tingling  through  two  hearts  ? 
For  pretty  Miss  Bellew  has  laid  down  her  arms  at  last, 
and  her  enemy  has  become  at  once  her  conqueror  and 
her  slave.  Little  wonder  that  the  walk  home  is  a  very 
silent   one,  or   that   Tom   and    Madge   vote   their  elders 


o 


So  PRETTY  MISS  BELLEW. 


growing  frightfully  middle-aged  and  stupid.  "But  they 
never  did  like  each  other,"  Madge  says.  "We  oughtn't 
to  have  left  them  to  walk  together,  Tom." 


THE  END. 


B.  Hermon  Smith,  Stereotyper,  The  University  Press,  Ithaca,  N.  Y. 


RfW 


UNIVERSITY  OF      \LIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

les 

Thi&Juiok  is  DU£  o  *ate  stamped  below. 


Thi&Jiool 


JUL  19  ^ 
JUL19  1389 


orm  L9-32wi-8,'57(,C8680s4)444 

■It  is  a  remarkable  proflUGUon.  ann  it  rock  oevonu  me  mxu  aim  ra,iKu,ur:  n. .,.<=« 
w»i  which  the  previ(.u«  works  of  itii  author.  Mr.  Hardy,  'UiidCT  tha  GreeiyggS^Jl-'roe ' 
an.l  '  A  Pair  of  Blue  B.v aTVIilPl'rTt-d  J)<t: 'jf^tf  "Y;|fKtf  jUTt!  ^•*— - 


HEfJRY  HOj 


OF  CALIFORMBB 

^&  CfiMuMf^UBMew  York. 


RECENT     PUBL|"'»TinM5; 

MAINE'S     LECTURES     On  ,.?^,?.'i^^Jt'™,?.^G!O^AL.LiBRARY 

TORY  OF  INSTITUTIONS.     Ij 
Corpus  Professor  of  Jurispradeiij 

8vo,  cloth,  13.00.  I         ^/^    o6o'378  216 

MAINE'S    ANPT      ---^    LAW;    its  v.oix«n„.i.^.,    -_" 

Eaulv  Hi  •    '.:;d  its  Relation  to  Modrun 

Idkap.  iIf""  .joJINEK  Maine.  8vo,  cloth,  iinifonn 
with  th-      .ove,  |:10'    ' 

^DMVIS'                       .   iACY  AND     MONARCHY     IN 

'•''RANCl''                     5  Jnce.  of  the  Great  Revolution  to  the 

VyiverthroN                   Seconc  .pire.      IJy  Charles    Kendall 

A1JA.M3.      .  '"?    iO. 

STJMNER'S      .         rOR'  F     AMERICAN     CUR- 

-^  E  N  C  "^.     Laig.,'  12iP  i,  vith  Diagrams.     $.'5. 00. 

"Si  ,  iliet  a  \Tiir  whioti  hm  Ion       lei.  he  Uiiiu-ii  ritaiee." — M.  i'.  Tribune. 

"HESNEY'S       MILJ  TA"  BIOGRAPHY.       Largo 

I3:r).      ^^.6(1. 

V        n''!p  " — .V(ili>»'J. 

reiil,  not  only   o  t        irot         ni.    r>ldiei'.  tint  to  th*  generkl  reader." — 

'JISCH'S     TALMUD,       *ND      OTHER      LITE- 

ury  Uemnint.     W  "h  b  Ijripf  M'luoir.     .         S4.(lfl. 

•  ri:»T«: — The '^      mul  -  Isli\r-     -Ek.t  ..cient  and    Modern — Hemies    Triwne- 

i-     JiKlfoArabic       eluphysir       -ienr'        i    '!e'>era|>li.T — Rrnan'H  "  TyPS  ApiitrRs" — 
Hliip  of   Haalii''      .   Iira'>l— Ti        Ho'      ^ni    il  Council —ApostoliciB  Sedi-a  ? — Roman 
ion  Drniiia — Se    '  ic  '^Jkntfim^        -S:    >arilin  Peiitnteuch — The  Tari{iimH — Book  ot 
.•«har — Araliic  Vu 

lYLOrS     PRIMITIVE     CULTURE:      Researches  into 
the  De  alopi  of  Mythokv      Phil    ophy,  Religion,  Art,  and  Custom.     By  E. 

B.  Ttlob.     ..     •  American  fr(  ai  the      coud  London  edition.     2  toU.  8to,  ?5.Uli. 

TRAUSS'    1  HE    O     D    .       .TH    AND   THE    NEW 

A  Cnfi-sMon         .j   Dati.  ionn.  ,     TBAUss.    12mo,  $2.00. 

-  ONW^AY  SAf       ED     ANTHOLOGY.      A  Book   of 

Ethnicp'   "^     iptures.         "Ueoted  and  editetl  by  M.   D.  Conway 
Hto.     f 
"  I  rnuld  «  r  wime  Buch  b.  ik  an  thlf  Anthology  might  be  \n\t  into  the  handi  of 

»ery  miniKtei        Mr'iica." — l.the^il  V/i.  .Ji  /». 

'AGNF                ARi        LIFE  AND       THEORIES 

Selcctef.  ..I  hi.s  n'  "  '  ■  •  t-  mjh  L.  lUii- 
MNdAMK.  Witl)  n  .  I's  pulili.shed 
works,  and  '  wi'  tin-  i  <  >(n-r!i  H(ni.><e.  IStno,  Ama- 
teur series  {■-'-  i  with  il"  '■  STiisIi  mill  !\Tnsl.iims  "  nuA 
Chorlcy's  "  Art  and  Society.")     f  2. 

CHORLEY'S      RECENT      ART     AND      SOCIETY 
Uuiform  with    "Recent  Music  and  Musicians."      $2.00. 

MOSCHELES'     RECENT      MUSIC      AND     MUSI- 
CIANS.    12mo.     $2.00. 


HENRY  HOLT  &  CO.,  25  Bond  St.,  New  York. 


w 


0 


% 


LEISURE  HOUR  SERIES 


EETTY MISS  BELIEF 


BY 


THEO.GIFT 


Henry  HoLT&  Co.  PuBLiSHEE^ 
New  York 


■h|> 


>s 


